


Make Way For Tomorrow

by hopeless_hope



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Dead Aunt May, Depression, Emotional Abuse, Foster Care, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is a dad, Whump, kind of?? you'll see, the kinda sorta platonic cinderella story that literally nobody asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_hope/pseuds/hopeless_hope
Summary: Peter swallows and looks at Tony, unable to keep the heartbroken look off his face. His hand grabs for his book bag while his other sweeps the vials up. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he can’t risk going back into the system. He closes his eyes, for just a second, to mourn the life he could have had.“I’m sorry,” he says to Tony.He doesn’t wait to see the man’s response before he pushes through the crowd of people and runs. “Wait!” Tony calls after him.But Peter’s already out the door.-Before Ben died, Peter won a booth to present his project at the Stark Expo. But even on the run from the foster care system, he can't pass up the opportunity to attend and show the world his project. It all goes so well, until it doesn't. Trying to avoid being caught, Peter runs out on Tony just as the man is about to make him the offer of a lifetime.Bold of him to assume Tony won't try to find him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Make Way For Tomorrow" from Iron Man 2. It's the Stark Expo theme song.
> 
> Big thanks to howlingdawn for how much she helped me plan this out. I wouldn't have been able to write any of this without you.

There are people all around him. Men and women alike mill about, some dragging large projects on carts behind them, others with nothing but a briefcase. The convention area is packed, and Peter fiddles nervously with his envelope as he waits to get checked in with nothing but his book bag and a large poster board.

As he steps up, the lady glances at him with a bored expression before snapping her gaze back to him. “General Check-In for spectators is over there,” she says, pointing to his left. “Go find your parents and check in there. This is for people with a booth.”

_ I don’t even have parents,  _ he wants to say. Instead, he holds out the envelope. “I do have a booth,” he tells her flatly.

She gives him a skeptical look but plucks the envelope from his grasp, reaching inside to pull out the certificate he’d been given weeks ago when he won Midtown’s Science Fair. The prize, this year, included a booth at the Stark Expo.

A once in a lifetime opportunity, and he doesn’t even get to enjoy it. Grief rises, bitter in his throat, and Peter forcefully pushes it back down.

He watches the lady’s face color with surprise as she scans the chip on the side of it, confirming his place on the list.  _ I told you so,  _ he would have said at one time. Now, he just stares back at her blankly as she gives him his badge.

He starts to walk away when he hears, “Wait! Where are your parents?”

Peter turns around and gives her a bitter smile. “They dropped me off so they could find a parking space,” he tells her.

It’s a lie.

* * *

The worst part about the Expo, Peter thinks, is the noise. Ever since the spider bite, loud noises have been practically unbearable. And here, he can hear every grind of a gear, every rushed modification people are making to their projects, and every mere whisper.

The flashing camera lights are awful, too. Most of it is coming from reporters as they document one of the country’s biggest events of the year, while some of it comes from guests wanting to record one of the most important moments in their lives.

Peter looks down at the packet he was given and makes his way to booth 24A, relieved to see that it’s tucked into a corner.

The first thing he does is set his bag on the table and pull out a large pair of sunglasses, sighing in relief when the light dims. Next, he pulls out the earbuds he’d modified to filter out white noise after the bite. As soon as he puts them in, the roar of the convention area becomes much more manageable.

Peter looks around, watching the people nearby set up their respective booths. Almost all of them are accompanied by family or coworkers or friends, and Peter swallows the bitterness that floods his mouth like bile.

He’s surrounded by some of the most brilliant minds in the world, and he’s never felt so truly and utterly alone.

He shakes the thought away and turns back to his table, quickly propping up the large poster board. Peter grimaces at it, suddenly aware of how… elementary it looks. He’d hastily put it together the night before the science fair, after weeks and weeks of trying to find just the right formula for his modified web fluid.

Ben had found him on the floor of his bedroom at two o’clock in the morning, frantically flipping through his notes and trying to type everything up. The man had kneeled in front of him and brushed a messy curl from his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo,” he’d greeted. “Looks like you could use some help.” They tried not to think about how May was always much better at crafty presentations than either of them. But together, they’d managed to toss together a half-decent board. At least, decent enough to impress the judges.

Peter blinks the memory away and pulls the rest of his project from his bag. He was careful to make a web shooter that looked nothing like Spider-Man’s to try to keep suspicion off him, and he nods in satisfaction when he strings up thin strands of webbing to the corner of his tent.

He attaches a simple sign with his name and project name to the webbing and watches it hang there, appearing as though it’s floating. Then, he sets the vials of web fluid on the table, along with the webshooter. It’s not much, but it’s all he had at the science fair.

Once he’s finished, Peter sits back in his chair and watches the people around him. Some look excited and others look frazzled with stress as they set up their booth. Most people, he notices, have flashy signs and expensive-looking tools with them. He hates how envious he feels.

After awhile, general guests are allowed in, and Peter apprehensively wait as spectators slowly make their way down the line to him. He fidgets nervously, wishing he at least had a phone to mess with while he waits.

Peter watches interestedly as a life-sized model of BB8 rolls behind its owner, trilling excitedly. Once upon a time, Peter thinks that maybe he would have approached the owner, flustered as he gushes over how well-built it is. Instead, he just allows a small smile to pull at his lips as he watches the bot weave in and out of the crowd, eventually wheeling out of sight.

When he fixes his gaze back in front of him, he finds a little boy staring at him with wide eyes.

“Mommy, look!” the boy exclaims, tugging insistently at his mom’s sleeve. “He has webs like Spider-Man!”

The woman looks up at Peter with a disinterested look, and Peter can’t help but feel so, so small. He shrinks back as she says, “I see. It’s very, very cool. But why don’t we go see Iron Man’s tech and then head back to Daddy’s booth?”

The kid pouts at that but has no choice other than to be pulled away by his mother. Peter gives the kid a small smile behind his mother’s back and gestures at the kid, tucking in his middle and pointer finger as if shooting webs. The kid laughs happily, and Peter winks at him.

After that, though, he gets little interaction. Maybe it’s because of his age, or because his project is juvenile in that it’s based off a glorified vigilante, or maybe it’s because there’s a dark cloud that follows Peter everywhere he goes, but people mostly just avoid him.

Some people, at least, try. They walk over and read his board of facts, occasionally picking up the web shooter and watching as thin strands attach themselves to the poles of his tent. But then they put the device back down and offer him a tight-lipped smile with a nod of acknowledgement before turning away.

It’s nothing he’s not used to, but it stings nonetheless. He should have known, though. Scientists from all over the world are here - no one’s going to care what a fifteen year old kid from Queens has to say.

Peter belatedly considers that maybe he should take his name off the sign, but then he remembers that his name is on the roster for check-in anyway. Besides, he reasons, with the way things are going, no one’s going to look at him long enough to recognize him as a kid on the run from the foster care system.

For over an hour, Peter simply sits and watches people avoid his gaze or give his project a cursory glance, before suddenly he sees people rushing down the aisle. He takes an earbud out curiously and immediately regrets it when he’s met with an onslaught of excited shouts. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and tries to focus.

A group of college kids rush by, and he tries to hear what they’re saying.

“-course we’re not gonna get to talk to him. I’d be happy enough just to get within, like, ten feet of Tony Stark!” one of the guys yells, and Peter perks up at that.

People are all crowding around a singular figure, and Peter watches as the mass moves from tent to tent. His realizes with a jolt that Tony Stark is walking from station to station and is seized with nerves. He’d heard once, that part of the honor of being invited to the Expo and getting a moment to present your tech directly to Tony Stark, but Peter didn’t really think that was real.

This moment is every kid’s dream come true, and all he can think is,  _ I wish Ben was here. _

Slowly, the crowd of people approach his corner. The man in the booth next to him straightens up, and Peter can’t help but watch as Tony Stark greets him. The man smoothly launches into an explanation of his project, clearly doing his best to keep his composure.

Tony watches with polite interest, occasionally making comments and asking questions here and there, and Peter’s impressed at how humble and open the man seems. He’s warm and personable as he listens to everything the other man is saying.

Peter is suddenly struck by just how outclassed he is. He has a total of three outfits in the storage unit he now calls home, and the nicest thing he owns is khakis and a collared shirt. He hasn’t had a proper shower in two days, only having time to essentially sponge himself clean in a public bathroom before heading to the Expo.

He wonders briefly, if Tony is going to do what everyone else has done - take one look at him and keep walking. Peter can’t help but think for a moment that maybe that’d be preferable. He’s not sure he can handle seeing the look of disappointment in Tony’s eyes as he takes in Peter’s shitty high school project and ratty appearance.

On the other hand, though, he’d be crushed if his idol simply walked right past him. The thought leaves his mouth dry with panic and an empty feeling in his chest, but Peter’s used to that, too.

He looks down when Tony shakes hands with the man. Peter stares steadfastly at the ground, panic and self-loathing and hope bubbling within his chest, fighting for dominance.

Two words drive everything to a halt.

“Hey, kid.”

Peter looks up with wide eyes to find Tony Stark standing in front of him, watching him with a slight smile on his lips. Cameras flash over Tony’s shoulder and Peter sort of wants to shrink into the corner. Instead, he forces himself to meet Tony’s gaze.

“I, um… hi,” he says lamely, wincing internally. Peter is the complete opposite of the last man Tony talked with. His posture screams of discomfort and nerves, and Peter can hear his own heart pounding wildly.

Tony, however, doesn’t seem to mind Peter’s lack of social prowess. He glances up at Peter’s sign and says, “Oh, you’re Midtown’s science fair winner, aren’t you? Impressive. That’s a hard competition to win.”

Peter can’t help but flush at the praise, a small smile tugging at his lips. He nods. “I’m Peter,” he introduces, and Tony smiles warmly at him.

“Nice to meet you, Peter. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got going on here?” Tony gestures at his table encouragingly, and Peter takes a deep breath. He’s done this before. Maybe not in front of the greatest innovator of the modern world, but he’s explained his project before.

“Um, well, I guess I’m kind of a nerd,” he starts off with, and Tony grins.

“Aren’t we all?” he jokes, and the crowd laughs.

“Touché,” Peter says and gestures to his poster strewn with paragraphs of facts. “I was particularly fascinated by Spider-Man’s webbing and how he created a fluid that could solidify and have enough elasticity and tensile strength to hold him up and swing from.”

“You and me both,” Tony comments, and Peter tries to keep the shocked look off his face. Obviously it’d make sense that Tony’s heard of Spider-Man, but to think that Tony’s interested in his webbing, something that Peter himself made outside of any science fair? Unreal.

“Yeah. Once I got fairly close to replicating Spider-Man’s web formula, I decided to go smaller. I did a lot of research on spider silk, and I wanted to see if I could make a fluid with thinner strands that’s closer to a spider silk’s actual strength,” Peter explains.

“Wait a second,” Tony cuts in, giving Peter an incredulous look. “You managed to replicate Spider-Man’s formula?”

Peter gives him an unsure look, suddenly afraid that the man is going to laugh in his face and leave. “Um. Yeah?”

Tony lets out a low whistle. “Kid, I’ve been trying to do that since the moment I heard about Spider-Man.”

Peter has no clue what to say to that, so he settles with, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. “So were you able to make it thinner? I’ve gotta see this, now.”

Peter nods and nervously hands Tony the device on the table. “It doesn’t shoot very far yet, but if you string it from one pole of the tent to the other, you can see how it works.”

Tony looks absolutely thrilled as he presses the trigger, watching the hairlike strands attach themselves to the PVC poles. Peter then hands Tony a piece of paper.

“Here, stick it onto the webbing,” Peter instructs. Tony carefully leans forward and lets out a delighted bark of laughter when the paper sticks to the web. He shakes his head and looks at Peter with renewed astonishment.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Fifteen?” Peter wishes he could stop saying everything like a question. Tony shakes his head again.

“You do realize, right, that you’re the first person, literally ever, to be able to replicate a spider’s silk? Even Spider-Man’s webs are thick, cable-like. This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Tony says, eyes shining as he presses a gentle finger to the thin strands.

“Oh,” Peter says with a nervous laugh. He chest is bursting with pride. This is everything he could have hoped for and more.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “You really have a penchant for understatement, huh? Listen, I’ve got to get going, but why don’t you hang behind afterwards? I’d really like to meet with you and discuss -“

Peter doesn’t hear the rest of what the man says as his eyes catch movement right behind Tony. He hadn’t noticed before, but Tony’s flanked by two security guards. One is the infamous Happy Hogan, but the other one is, more importantly, NYPD.

He meets the officers eyes for just a second, and her eyes narrow at him. His heart thuds loudly in his chest as reality crashes down around him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

He remembers three things:

  1. He his Peter Benjamin Parker.
  2. His parents, aunt, and uncle are dead.
  3. He is a runaway.



Peter swallows and looks at Tony, unable to keep the heartbroken look off his face. His hand grabs for his book bag while his other sweeps the vials up. Maybe he’s being paranoid, but he can’t risk going back into the system. He closes his eyes, for just a second, to mourn the life he could have had.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Tony.

He doesn’t wait to see the man’s response before he pushes through the crowd of people and runs. “Wait!” Tony calls after him.

But Peter’s already out the door.

* * *

Tony stares after the kid, baffled. Around him, people are murmuring in confusion. He turns to Happy.

“You saw that, right? I’m not hallucinating? A kid just ran out on me,” Tony says incredulously. Happy gives him a bored look.

“A kid ran out on you,” he confirms. Tony shakes his head in disbelief and turns back to the table, where the most brilliant kid he’s ever met stood in front of him just moments before.

Tony finds one one vial of web fluid knocked over on the table, ready roll off the edge. The kid must have accidentally left it behind in his haste to leave. Which, what in the ever-loving  _ hell  _ was that all about?

Tony catches the vial in his hand and holds it up to study before pocketing it. He shakes his head one last time and looks at the crowd.

“Onward, I guess. And Happy?”

The man raises an expectant eyebrow. “Yes, Boss?”

“Don’t let me forget to find that kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this whole damn chapter was a fucking trip. You know why? I'd almost written the whole thing and then my computer crashed, deleting all of my open files, including this one. So this chapter isn't as good as it originally was, but I really wanted to get it written so I wouldn't lose the picture I had in my head.
> 
> No clue when updates will be, so you might have to harass me, oops. I hope you guys enjoy this. Please leave a comment/kudos to let me know what you think!
> 
> As always, come yell at me on tumblr @the-great-escapism.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely blown away by the response I got to the first chapter. Thank you guys so, so much. I hope this suffices.

As it turns out, living in a self-storage unit isn’t even kind of glamorous. Not that he’d had any sort of previous misconceptions that living in one would be  _ nice -  _ it’s just that sometimes you never know just how god awful something is until you experience it for yourself.

This was a lesson he first learned in foster care. The memory makes him shiver, phantom hands crawling along Peter’s skin, and he shakes the thought away.

He quickly punches a short code into the keypad and waits for the fence surrounding the property to open before slipping through and making his way inside. Julian, the bored-looking receptionist perks up when he enters.

“Peter!” he greets. “Good day?”

“Long one,” Peter says tiredly. That doesn’t even begin to cover it, but as much as Peter likes Julian, he prefers for him to know as little as possible. So far, they have an unspoken 'don’t ask, don’t tell' policy, and it’s worked out well so far. Peter doesn’t mention why he’s living there and Julian doesn’t ask or report him for it.

“Ah, it only gets worse as you get older,” Julian says mournfully, and Peter laughs dryly at that.  _ How much worse can it fucking get?  _ Peter almost asks. “Anyway, I’m closing up soon, so you might want to settle in for the night.”

“Yeah, thanks, man. I think I’m gonna go crash,” Peter tells him, and quickly makes his way up to his “room.”

He’s greeted by happy panting, and he quickly flicks Ben’s old lantern on so he can see.

“Tilly!” he exclaims, leaning down to pet her. The black lab wags her tail enthusiastically, shoving her snout into his hands and licking him. “How’s my girl doing? I’m sorry I had to leave you for so long. You’ll never believe what happened.”

Peter plops down and sits on a bin. Technically, his life sucks. Dead parents, dead aunt and uncle, he’s literally living in Ben’s storage unit where Ben stored a bunch of May’s things he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of, and his only companion is a stray dog who’s as homeless as he is.

On the other hand, it could be worse. (It  _ was  _ worse.)

Peter opens one of the bins and pulls out the remaining bit of Ben’s emergency cash, which he’d thankfully had the mind slip from their apartment, and counts the bills. Satisfied that it’s all still there, he sighs and figures now is as good a time as any to continue his minor freak-out from earlier.

He pulls out a bag of beef jerky from his backpack and feeds a couple pieces to Tilly, who eagerly licks them up.

“So, I ran out on Tony Stark today. Like. I just…  _ yeeted, _ ” he tells her. She looks up at him and cocks her head, as if to say,  _ You dumbass.  _ “I know, I know! But he had someone from NYPD there and she looked at me and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was gonna recognize me.”

Tilly chews the last of her treat and sidles close to him, sticking her head in his lap and looking up at him with expressive brown eyes. Peter leans back against the wall and groans loudly.

“The crazy thing is, Mr. Stark was actually impressed! Like, he was asking me questions and even wanted me to stay behind, and then I had to go and ruin it,” he pouts, letting his head hit the wall with a thunk.

Tilly nuzzles him sympathetically and he pats her head gratefully. “I guess it never would have worked out, huh? Eventually, he would have had to look into my background and found out I’m a runaway, and then he would have had to turn me in.”

Peter lets out a loud breath and leans down to press his cheek to Tilly’s dark fur. “In any other universe, this would have been the opportunity of a lifetime. But because Ben -” His eyes burn and he blinks them furiously before sitting up again.

“I guess it doesn’t matter. This is reality now. Wake up, Peter.”

* * *

“Thank God that’s over,” Tony groans, plopping onto the couch. Pepper steps up behind him and massages his shoulders firmly, occasionally pausing to run her fingers through his hair.

“Honey, you love the Expo. It gives you permission to be even more publicly dramatic than usual,” she quips, and Rhodey, who’s sitting on the recliner, laughs loudly.

“She’s got a point, Tones,” he smirks as Tony gives him a dirty look.

“Oi, hush it. Let a man be tired,” Tony whines, leaning into Pepper’s soothing touch. “I  _ do  _ love the Expo. But it’s ridiculous - I have to, like, be nice to people and smile a lot for hours. Which is fine, but DUM-E gets upset when I’m away for too long.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it has absolutely  _ nothing  _ to do with the fact that you got maybe two hours of sleep last night and are tired?” Pepper gives him a final squeeze before walking around the couch to sit next to him.

“She’s got you, man,” Rhodey says, tipping his drink at him.

Tony can’t exactly argue with that. He’s always on the cusp of exhaustion nowadays, but setting up for the Expo drained him more than usual, even with all the help he got from Pepper and his staff.

“Anyway, I heard you got ditched by a kid today,” Rhodey says conversationally, and Tony winces at the memory. Not exactly his finest hour, having a kid run away from him at his own event. That reminds him - he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the vial of web fluid that’d been left behind.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Tony grumbles. “I have to say, that was pretty new. He really blew it, though. I was about to offer him an internship here.”

“Tony, you don’t even have interns,” Pepper points out, and Tony raises an eyebrow at her.

“Exactly.”

Rhodey lets out a low whistle. “Must be some kid,” he comments.

Tony huffs out a laugh. “That’s an understatement. You see this right here?” he asks, holding up the vial. “A fifteen year old kid managed to make synthetic spider silk. Some of the most brilliant minds ever, including mine, have tried to figure that out, and a kid who’s voice still cracks when he speaks figured it out because he got obsessed with Spider-Man.”

Rhodey shakes his head in amazement. “You weren’t kidding.”

“It’s just a shame. I could use a mind like that here,” Tony says. “The things he’d be able to do in a real lab…”

Pepper gives him a weird look. “You could still offer him an internship, you know.”

“Pep, if he ran away from me, I feel like that’s a pretty clear sign he wouldn’t be interested,” Tony says drily.

“Or he could have anxiety. The Expo is nerve-wracking for  _ adults  _ presenting. I’m sure it was terrifying for a kid in high school, especially with all those reporters and people watching him,” she points out. “He was Midtown’s Science Fair winner, right? Just call or go to his school and ask to speak with him.”

Inwardly, Tony cringes at the thought of pulling up to a high school. Definitely not a place he particularly wants to revisit, but then… It’s not everyday he meets a kid who can play ball in his court. It’s worth a shot.

“Hm. I’ll think about it,” he concedes, knowing he’s already made his decision. Tony leans sideways and lets his head fall into Pepper’s lap. “For now, it’s nap time.”

* * *

Peter doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to waking up on linoleum. He hasn’t had real rest since before his life went to shit, and last night was no exception. He blinks away flashes of red behind his eyelids and allows himself a moment to get reoriented. He runs through his list of reminders, of things he can never let himself forget.

  1. __My name is Peter Parker.__
  2. _My parents, aunt, and uncle are dead._
  3. _I am a runaway._



 

Those three facts settle on his shoulders and seep into his bones, and all he can think is,  _ This really, really sucks.  _ There’s always a moment when he first wakes up, that he hopes this was all a bad dream.

(But of course it’s not. Life has never been that merciful to him.)

Movement next to him causes him to look down, and he smiles when he finds Tilly snuggled close to him, her head tucked under his arm. He gently runs his hand down her side, and his heart melts at the contented little sigh she lets out.

The companionship has done wonders for him. Peter used to spend hours inside the cramped little storage room, the silence roaring loudly in his ears. Now, though, he has someone to talk to, even if it’s just a dog who can’t say anything back. Her attentive expressions are just enough to make it all bearable.

From the small window on the far wall, Peter can tell the sun is quickly rising high in the sky, and he groans before carefully pushing himself up into a sitting position, trying to ignore how sore his head and neck feel from laying on the ground.

Tilly lets out a small noise in dismay, and Peter pats her consolingly. “I know, I’m sorry. But I’ve got work to do. Plus, I get paid today, and you’re almost out of food.”

He laughs when her ears perk up at the word ‘food’. Peter gets up and tosses one of his few outfits on, making a mental note to stop and get his laundry cleaned later. He hates to spend money on it, but a couple of quarters is a small price to pay for cleanliness.

Peter rakes his hands through his messy hair in attempt to tame his curls, but to no avail. He just shakes his head at himself and grabs Ben’s old camera, hastily wiping the lens clean, and then he pulls out his ratty Spider-Man outfit and stuffs it into his bag.

“Wanna go on a walk?” he asks the dog sitting obediently at his feet. She hops enthusiastically at that, and he laughs, kneeling down to pet her. “I thought so. Come on, you know the drill.”

After making sure anything even kind of valuable is tucked safely into a bin, Peter opens the door and allows Tilly to bound out in front of him. He locks the door behind him and makes his way downstairs, Tilly trotting along at his side.

Julian is already there, preparing to open up the building for the day, and he stops when Peter walks through.

“Good morning, Peter. And you, too, little lady,” the man says, stooping down to give the dog a quick pat. “Angie is working evening shift tonight, so you might want to try to avoid her,” Julian says pointedly.

Angie is a rather snippy woman who Peter’s only interacted with a handful of times and hopes he never has to again. She's stern and all-around terrifying, and she certainly would not allow him to stay the night. Peter knows he can easily climb the building to the window, but it's not like he can tell Julian that.

He just smiles and says, “Thanks, man. In that case, Tilly and I will probably head to a friend’s for the night.”

“Sounds good! Have a good day doing… whatever it is you do,” Julian says good-naturedly, and Peter smiles at him before taking his leave and beginning the long walk into the depths of the city.

Tilly, for her part, is beyond excited to stretch her legs after being inside for most of the day yesterday, and Peter can’t help but feel a little guilty. Usually, he lets her roam around, but he’d spotted Animal Control driving around yesterday and didn’t want to risk her being caught.

When they reach a street vendor, he buys a hot dog for himself and Tilly, mentally reminding himself to stop and buy a bag of dog food later.

Once he reaches a cluster of tall buildings, Peter ducks into an alleyway and changes into the Spider-Man attire. After he’s packed his “civilian” clothes back in his bag, he takes out his camera and looks down at Tilly.

“Don’t let anyone take my stuff, okay? I’ll be back in a little bit,” he tells her, tugging at his mask to make sure it’s secure. The dog wags her tail and nudges him as if you say,  _ I know, I know, go do your thing, silly human. _

He loves the crap out of her.

Peter wastes no time in crawling to the top of the building and landing gracefully on the roof. He takes a moment to mess with the focus and settings on the camera hanging around his neck. Once he’s satisfied that it’s exactly how he wants it, he sets the self-timer, props the camera on the edge of the roof, and immediately starts counting in his head.

_ Five… four… three… two… _

“Let’s do this.”

_ One. _

He jumps.

* * *

When Monday morning hits, Tony heads down to his workshop to find the kid’s poster board sitting on his desk. He’d asked Happy to bring it down, and he’s pleased to find it in perfect condition. Now that he has time to really look at it, Tony takes the time to carefully read through the information and take a look at the calculations.

Tony looks at the canister of web fluid and shakes his head in renewed amazement. It’s not often that Tony is met with a product that blows him away, and the fact that it was created by a high school student for a damn science fair seems… unreal, really.

“Hey, FRIDAY. The kid from Midtown at the Expo… what was his name, again?” he asks, trying to find it on the board.

“I believe you’re referring to the student who ran out on you, correct?” FRIDAY says, and Tony could swear there’s a note of amusement in her voice. He scowls.

“Really? You too?” he snaps. He’s not going to lie - he was a little wounded at the rejection. Now he just wants to know what kind of kid would run out on him in the first place. “Name, FRIDAY.”

“The student in question is one Peter Parker,” the AI informs him. “Though, if you’d checked on the back of the poster, you would have found his name.” If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d say the AI is  _ laughing  _ at him. Absolutely insulting.

“Keep that sass up, and I’ll retire you and make DUM-E into my new AI,” he threatens. “Patch a call through to Midtown.”

“Of course,” FRIDAY says innocently, and Tony can’t help but smile fondly. He misses JARVIS, but FRIDAY’s snark is almost enough to match the old one.

For a second, a dial tone fills the lab, and Tony drums his fingers against the table impatiently. Finally, there’s a click, and a cool voice filters through.

“Midtown School of Science and Technology, this is Mrs. Waters speaking. How may I help you?” the secretary asks.

“Hello, this is Tony Stark,” he says smoothly and waits for the inevitable gasp on the other end. He rolls his eyes, but he can’t help smirking in amusement.

“I - uh, wow. Mr. Stark, sir. H-How can I help you?” she stutters out.

“I was wondering if I could arrange to meet with a student of yours, actually. Peter Parker. You see, I was very impressed with the work he did for your science fair, and I’d like to come by and chat with him further,” he tells her, already pulling up the schedule Pepper had sent him for the week, prepared to wipe anything off of it.

For a second, he gets no response, and he wonders if she’s passed out or something. It wouldn’t be the first time. Then, “Mr. Stark, I’m afraid Peter Parker no longer goes here,” she says timidly.

“What?” Tony says sharply, not believing his ears. “Then where is he?”

There’s the sound of computer keys clicking on the other end before she speaks up again. “His uncle died not long after the science fair,” she says sadly. “He was placed into foster care, and a couple weeks later, he stopped showing up altogether. We’ve been told to keep an eye out for him, but… no one’s really sure where he is.”

Tony’s glad no one else is around to see his face. “You’re telling me you  _ lost  _ a fifteen year old kid?” he asks incredulously.

“I - Mr. Stark,” Mrs. Waters says, sounding nervous. And distantly, Tony knows this isn’t her fault. After all, she’s just the messenger. “I can give you the number to the Department of Family Services, if that would help.”

He sighs and rakes a tired hand down his face. “Don’t worry about it,” he says shortly. “Have a nice day.”

As soon as he hangs up, he says, “FRIDAY, get me any and all information you can find on Peter Parker. Family history, date of birth, where he lived before - I want to know who he is and why no one knows where he is.”

“On it, Boss,” the AI says immediately, already pulling up a picture of the kid and filling a projection in front of him with information. His eyes catch on the notice.

_ MISSING CHILD REPORT: _

_ It was reported to police that Peter Benjamin Parker was last seen walking with a friend from school to his foster home located in Queens, NY.  _ _ Anyone with information in regards to this missing male is asked to call the NYPD’s Crime Stoppers Hotline at 1-800-577-TIPS. _

Tony stares at the picture of the kid, thinking back to the one at the Expo. Now that he thinks about it, the Peter he met there had dark circles under his eyes and was nervous in a way Tony realizes now probably had something to do with the security officer that’d been with him.

The Peter in the picture is grinning widely at whoever’s behind the camera, his face bright with youthful happiness. He looks so much… healthier. Tony curses himself for not realizing it in the moment, even though he knows logically he couldn’t have known. He leans back to sit on the edge of the table and crosses his arms, unable to take his eyes off the picture.

“Kid,” Tony says aloud to no one. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I have no clue where I'm going with this. My outline got deleted in what I'm calling the Microsoft Snap, and I'm too lazy to write a new one, so now I'm winging it. I kept making tiny plot holes, so if it seems like there's weirdly unnecessary information in here, it's because I kept overthinking.
> 
> Anyway, I'm now terrified that the rest of my chapters won't live up to the first one, but I hope you guys enjoyed this nonetheless. If there's something you'd like to see, feel free to put it in the comments. I can't guarantee I'll write it, but you never know. Please let me know what you think! I probably won't update again until after Endgame (I'M SO SCARED), so I'll see you guys on the other side! Again, thank you guys so much for the support.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the longer wait, but I hope you guys like this! Thank you so much for all the support. It means the world to me.

“I won’t hesitate to shoot you, kid,” the man in front of him threatens nastily, and Peter rolls his eyes under the mask, even as a chill runs up his spine. Knives, he can deal with. Fists? No problem. But guns? He’s not scared of them, not anymore. He just  _ hates _ them.

(But of course he does. They took everything from him. Or at least, they took the last of what he had.)

“Joke’s on you, dumbass,” Peter tells him. “I actually  _ want  _ to die.”

Whatever response the man was expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. He falters for a second, giving Peter a confused look. “Wha-”

Peter uses the man’s distraction as a chance to fling a web out, effectively snatching the gun from his grasp. The man lets out a startled curse and tries to run, but Peter is quick to shoot another web at his feet, and he stumbles, caught in the web.

Peter clucks his tongue in mock disappointment. “Aw, shucks, guess I’ll have to put a raincheck on being murdered. I suppose we can’t all win.”

The man gives him a baffled look, which Peter pointedly ignores as he walks closer to the man and pries the briefcase from his hands. “I’ll be taking this now.”

In a burst of desperate retaliation, the robber grabs Peter’s ankle, trying to yank him down. The man’s hand touches him, and Peter’s vision tunnels, heart flying to his throat. His chest seizes with panic, and for a moment, he chokes, blood frozen in his veins.

_ No no no,  _ his brain chants over and over again.  _ This is why I left, this can’t happen again, it’s never supposed to happen again! _

Mind caught in a panicked daze, he blindly kicks, trying to force the man to let go. Peter’s mind is stuck in that house, trapped somewhere far away, and he lets his foot meet the man’s face, not caring about the crack that follows.

He drops the briefcase and puts as much difference between him and the man as possible, willing himself to calm down. Eventually, he stops and keels over, hands resting on his knees as he gulps at the air greedily. Self-loathing at his reaction is already creeping up on him, but he pushes it down. He’s justified. He  _ is. _

When he escaped out the window all those weeks ago, sore and traumatized and scared, he’d promised himself one thing:

_ This will never happen to me again. _

* * *

Tony never in a million years thought he’d be walking into a high school cafeteria again. All high schools, he’s noticed, have the same general vibe. Yeah, it varies from place to place, but each school reeks of a sheltered world, a closed off one.

(But not for Tony. No, he was quickly thrust into the outside world. He never got to be a kid like everyone else.)

He walks into the cafeteria and sees the students lined up on the stage answering trivia questions, and bitterness wells in his throat. His extracurriculars consisted of learning how to respond to reporters’ questions and public speaking.

For one blissful minute, no one seems to notice his arrival, too engrossed in their drill to pay him any attention. But then, one of the students looks up, gaze absentmindedly sweeping over him before snapping back.  _ Here we go,  _ Tony thinks.

“Holy shit, it’s Tony Stark!” the kid shouts.

“Flash, for the last time, your wishful thinking isn’t going to just make him appear,” a girl at the front says boredly, and Tony smiles in amusement as the kid - Flash - reddens in embarrassment. No one else even bothers looking up.

“But -” Flash tries to say, gaping at Tony.

“Come on, since you’re feeling chatty, you’re up next,” the girl says. Tony chooses that moment to step in, deciding to give the boy a reprieve.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could talk to you guys for a second,” Tony says, strolling idly to the front of the room and stopping next to the girl.

Every head turns in his direction, and the room falls absolutely silent. The students simply stare at him in disbelief, not knowing what to do or say, or if this isn’t some sort of shared hallucination.

“I told you,” Flash mutters smugly.

“Shut up, Flash,” the girl next to Tony snaps, turning to him with an unimpressed look. Tony can’t help but be startled by the intensity of her gaze, strangely reminiscent of Pepper’s. He shudders inwardly. “I’m Michelle, team captain,” she introduces politely. “What can we do for you?”

Tony clears his throat, feeling inexplicably nervous under all of their gazes. “I’m here about Peter Parker.”

Everyone in the room seems to take a collective breath, and they all look around at each other, expressions ranging from confused to sad or somewhere in between.

“Peter?” Flash says derisively. “He’s been gone for weeks.”

Tony narrows his eyes at him, not liking the tone with which he speaks of him. “So I’ve heard,” he says flatly. “I wanted to know if any of you were good friends with him, or know who was, so I could talk to them.”

Immediately, the students’ gazes split between their captain and one boy sitting at the end, staring at Tony with wide eyes.

“I am!” Flash says eagerly, immediately doing a complete one-eighty. “I was pretty close to him!”

“Close to beating him up, maybe,” Michelle mutters next to him, confirming Tony’s suspicions, and Tony snorts.

“Sure you were,” he says dryly. “If no one’s going to help, I’m just gonna…” He moves as if to walk out, but Michelle sighs heavily, sounding less than enthusiastic.

“Ned, come on. Betty, take over for me,” she commands, waiting for the other kid - Ned - to meet them. The boy stumbles over excitedly, and Michelle quickly leads them into the hall. As soon as they’re there, Ned starts talking.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe I’m actually standing in front of Tony Stark, oh my god,” Ned bursts out breathlessly. “But wait - you said you’re here about Peter. Is he okay? Are you wondering why he didn’t show up to your Expo? Because Flash is right. He’s been missing for weeks now.”

Tony holds up a hand, silencing him. “I know, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to see if he’d been in contact with any of his friends.”

Ned gives him a confused look. “The police already questioned both me and MJ.”

“And you’re telling me that if Peter asked you to withhold something from them, you’d tell them anyway?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Ned gives him a sheepish look.

“Why do you care?” MJ snaps, speaking up for the first time since they’d stepped into the hall. Her arms are crossed, eyes narrowed at him in suspicion. Tony wonders what her deal is. “What would someone like you want with him?”

_ “Someone like you.” _ Tony doesn’t have to guess what that means. He refuses to admit how much it stings. He levels her with a steady look. “He showed up to the Expo,” he tells them, watching surprise color their faces. It’s obvious they didn’t know.

“What?” Ned exclaims. “Is he okay? How did he look?”

Tony can’t help but notice that even MJ looks intrigued. He sighs. “At the time, I didn’t notice anything was wrong. We discussed his project and were just about to finish when he just - ran off. It wasn’t until later that I found out he was missing. But all things considered, he looked okay. Tired, for sure. But otherwise, I never would have guessed.”

MJ shrugs. “He’s good at pretending.”

Tony snaps his gaze back to her. “What does that mean?” he asks, more sharply than he intended.

The girl sighs and sags against the wall, looking tired. Tony sees something dark and and tired swimming in her eyes, and Tony realizes with a jolt what her deal is: she’s  _ worried. _

“After his uncle died, Peter was… different,” she tells him quietly. “Usually, he’s this bubbly force to be reckoned with. But then Ben died and he was moved to foster care, and by some miracle, they managed to keep him at Midtown. And then he started acting weird.”

“Weird how?” Tony asks, watching her exchange a look with Ned.

“I don’t even know,” she says, looking frustrated. “It’s… He’s so good at being Peter. He kept cracking jokes, talking about random things that interest him, just like he always does. But something was off with him. He never talked about his foster family. He looked… exhausted all the time. Defensive. And then he ran away.”

Tony watches her closely, watches the guilt settling on her face. A quick look at Ned shows that same sense of misplaced guilt.

“You think he was being abused.” It’s a statement, not a question. She nods reluctantly.

“Did you tell the police?”

“We tried,” Ned tells him. “But we didn’t have any evidence, and nobody else noticed anything off with Peter. We’re his only friends. Everyone just brushed it off as grief. We haven’t heard from him since he ran away.”

Tony realizes, then, that these kids aren’t ones living in a sheltered world either. There’s an age in their eyes that doesn’t belong within the walls of a high school.

“This isn’t either of your faults,” he tells them firmly. Ned nods and MJ looks up at him, expression becoming impassive again.

“I know,” she says tightly. Tony wonders if she really believes that. “But you never answered my question. What do you want with him?”

Tony looks her straight in the eye, hoping she can see his sincerity. Because, yeah, before it was about getting to pick at the brain of a genius kid, offering him an internship, and solving the mystery of what kind of person would run out on Tony Stark. But now, it’s so much more than that.

“Honestly? I just really want to help him.”

* * *

“Good news, Tilly!” Peter exclaims, cheerfully waving a wad of cash in front of the dog. “We’re like two hundred dollars richer. Today I gave Jameson the pictures, and he was over the moon. He was all, ‘I don’t know how the hell you manage to get such impossible shots, but I’m not complaining.’ And I was like, ‘When you hate Spider-Man as much as I do, you do what you can to catch him in compromising positions.’ And then he laughed.”

Tilly wags her tail enthusiastically as they head to the pet store. Peter is careful to keep his head down as he approaches security cameras. He plays it off by making it look like he’s simply watching his dog, and the tactic works well enough for him.

The effort, he suspects, his completely pointless anyway. Nobody’s looking for him.

They walk into the pet store, and Peter’s immediately assaulted by the smell of shampoo and dog fur from the grooming service they offer on the side. He peers through the look-in window and smiles at the disgruntled-looking poodle getting shaved.

“One day, when we’re not so broke, I promise I’ll pay for you to get the best bath ever,” he tells TIlly, leaning down to give her a quick pat. She licks his hand in thanks. “Do you think they give dogs pedicures?” Peter muses. “Paw-dicures?” He wrinkles his nose at himself. “Yeah, that was pretty bad.”

He straightens up and heads to the aisle lined with an assortment of colorful collars and harnesses.

“What are we thinking, babe?” he asks the canine. “Pink? Not because you’re a girl - discriminating colors based on gender is weird - but because because it’d look so good on you!”

Tilly cocks her head, looking absolutely unimpressed as he holds up the bright pink collar. Peter sighs.

“Fine. Are you a basic bitch? You just want black?” he asks, reaching for a black one. The dog huffs, looking at Peter in what he can only call disbelief.

“Okay okay, fine! Not black. How about…” Peter scans through the colors, “Red?” He pulls the collar off the rack and holds it out for her to inspect. She sticks her nose out and sniffs it interestedly before giving it a quick lick. “Red it is! A fine choice.”

She wiggles happily, and he pats her before heading to pick out a bag of food. Tilly pants happily as they check out, and Peter’s relieved he can finally give her something other than the hotdogs he’s given her the past few days.

He’s just making his way out of the shop when a sense of alarm shoots through him, prickling at the back of his neck. He stops abruptly, caught off guard. “What the -”

Seconds later, he looks into the sky and understands why. Far above them, an object in the sky is rapidly hurtling towards the ground, leaving a spiral of dark smoke its wake. No one else has noticed yet.

In two seconds flat, Peter’s ducked into an alleyway and shrugging his Spider-Man suit over his clothes, Tilly prancing at his side.

“Stay here, girl,” he says urgently, before quickly scuttling up the side of the building. He only has a matter of seconds to get this right.

He mentally checks to make sure he’s positioned right and jumps to the building across from him while shooting a web. Then he turns and jumps back again, repeating the process front to back and then left to right until he’s effectively made a net. He’s gotten the city’s attention now, and people are now looking up and yelling, scrambling to get out of from under it.

Peter’s just finished securing the last bit of webbing when the screams from below intensify, and he perches on the roof and holds his breath as the object comes crashing into the makeshift net. The webbing stretches and the object bounces up a couple times before settling.

He lets out a breath of disbelief, unable to believe that his hastily-made plan actually worked. Two seconds later, just as he’s about to climb onto the net and retrieve the large object, Peter has startling realization.

It’s not an object.

“Well, this is embarrassing,” a voice says loudly. The webs stretch again as the shape struggles to face him, literally caught in the web. “Hey, Spider-Man! How ‘bout a little help?”

It’s Iron Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, sorry it took me so long to update. I saw Endgame and honestly couldn't bring myself to write. For the sake of those avoiding spoilers, that's all I'm going to say on that.
> 
> Anyway, I still have no clue what the heck I'm doing with this story, so I'm sorry if this just gets worse and worse. I don't expect it to be a particularly long one, though. I can't thank you guys enough for the incredible amount of support for this story you guys have shown me, though. It's what motivated to keep writing after Endgame, and I'm so so grateful.
> 
> If you want to talk about Endgame or anything, you can always come talk to me on tumblr @the-great-escapism, but please keep spoilers out of the comments for now. And please let me know what you think of this! I love hearing your thoughts. Hope it didn't disappoint too much. <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I spend another second on this chapter, my brain is going to fry. Hope it doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Big thanks to Kat for helping me with the ending and letting me scream all my frustrations out at you. I love you.

“Tony, you can’t just blow off the actual Secretary of State  _ again.  _ Jesus,” Pepper huffs, heels clicking as she follows him to the lab.

Tony doesn’t even bother turning around. “Actually, I can. I have that power. It’s called the ‘End Call’ button. God, I love that button,” Tony says, and Pepper has to resist the urge to throw a shoe at him.

“You know, you really don’t have to be a pain in the ass all the time,” Pepper tells him.

“You love it,” Tony says cockily, practically jogging down the stairs in his haste to get to the safety of his lab.

“I really, really don’t,” Pepper groans. “ _ Tony. _ ”

He stops just outside the door, looking positively gleeful. “Sorry, Pep. Can’t help you. Suit’s broken. Who will the world call on if there’s an emergency?” At her incredulous look, Tony holds his hand up. “Okay, don’t answer that.”

Pepper rolls her eyes and tosses her hands into the hair. On the one hand, she’s used to Tony’s shit. On the other hand, there’s no getting used to Tony’s shit.

Tony blows her a kiss sweetly before heading into the lab, feeling her scalding glare follow him inside. He breathes out a sigh of relief as the door closes behind him. He claps his hands together.

“Okay, FRIDAY, let’s get this show on the road. What’s wrong with my suit?” he asks, stepping up to the workbench with the suit laid out on it like some sort of morbid corpse.

“Your circuits got fried from the waist down, sir. Suggested course of action: rewire the lower half of your suit. The top half appears to be in good condition,” the AI informs him.

Tony sighs. That’s going to take a few hours for sure, but luckily, it’s a fairly simple fix. Just a tedious one. “Great. Love it. Do we know what caused them to fry, FRI?” He chuckles to himself. “See what I did there?”

“As ever, I am astounded by your wit,” FRIDAY says drily. “From what my sensors have detected, there was a severe case of insulation breakdown. Replacing the wire with new insulation should fix the problem.”

“Oh, good. That’s not dangerous for me at all,” Tony says sarcastically. Thank God he’d been flying low to the ground when his suit failed. He winces at the memory.

“Indeed.”

Roughly four hours and just as many cups of coffee later, Tony tightens the last screw, looking down and admiring his handiwork.

“Not bad, Stark,” he praises himself. “Alright, let’s take this baby for a test run.”

He straightens up and lets the newly-modified suit fix itself around him, shifting his weight and moving around to test the fluidity of his movements. He’s quick to make his way outside, looking up at the clear blue sky.

Tony puts his hand out and gently fires his repulsor, making sure it works. “FRIDAY, how are we lookin’?”

“All systems are in order, Boss.”

“Time to go sky high, then,” Tony decides, rocketing off the ground. The thrill of lifting off, he thinks, will never go away. It’s adrenaline and joy and freedom all wrapped into a singular action, and it absolutely thrills him.

Defying gravity, he figures, is an act of rebellion in itself, and he’ll always love it.

He does a few careful loops, staying relatively low to the ground, just to be cautious. But it’s all smooth sailing from there, and Tony shouts happily.

“We’re back, baby! FRIDAY, let’s wander a little. I’m going to increase the altitude, too,” he tells the AI, trusting himself to go a little higher. As he flies, he can make out people down below looking up and waving, and he waves back enthusiastically before going even further up.

“Wonderful. FRIDAY, where should I go to get Pepper an apology gift? Something nice. What about those chocolates she always eyes? A new vase with those orchids she loves?” he brainstorms, flying aimlessly about.

“Might I suggest simply attending your scheduled meetings in the future?” FRIDAY deadpans, and Tony scoffs.

“God, I knew I shouldn’t have programmed you with so much sass. Respect your eld-”

He’s cut off my an urgent beeping, and red flashes across the screen. “FRIDAY? This doesn’t sound like a sound system,” he says nervously.

“You left boot repulsor just gave out, sir,” FRIDAY responds quickly. “You’re about to start losing altitude. Deploy parachute?”

“Shit,” Tony swears, glancing down at his feet. Sure enough, dark smoke is trailing from his foot, and he feels himself start to drop, heart flying into his throat. “Do it, do it!”

There’s a pause then, and he feels the back of his suit open up to release the parachute, but nothing happens. He’s still falling to the ground, picking up momentum. “FRIDAY, what’s the hold up?!”

“It won’t release! The parachute is caught,” the AI says, cool voice infused with worry. “I’ve sent for another suit to try to catch you, but…”

Yeah, it’s pretty bad when the computer you’ve programmed to stay collected trails off worriedly. Tony’s chest heaves with panic as he looks down again, immediately regretting it when the whirl of the city and buildings rapidly come closer. Jesus Christ.

He closes his eyes tightly, not wanting to watch himself smack into the ground, and prays that the upgrade to the suit’s shock absorbers will somehow be enough to keep a majority of the trauma off of him. It shouldn’t be lethal - well, hopefully - but God, it’s going to be painful.

He breathes deeply and forces his body to relax.

“Boss, something’s impeding your fall,” FRIDAY says urgently, and Tony grits his teeth.

“Oh, great. I die faster. Got anything else helpful to say?”

“No, I mean, something is being constructed right below you as you fall!” FRIDAY quickly tells him. But Tony’s brain is addled and sick from falling, and he cannot figure out what the  _ hell  _ that’s supposed to mean.

“Point, FRIDAY!” he shouts, trying to quell the rising panic.

“A net! There’s a net!” the AI clarifies. Tony shakes his head and stares, trying to focus, even as he spirals towards the ground. He squints.

“What the-” is all he has time to ask before he hits the net below him. “Oomf!” The breath is knocked out of his body as he’s tossed back into the air a couple more times before settling onto the net.

For a second, Tony just blinks, wondering if maybe he  _ did,  _ in fact, hit the ground and has entered some weird bridge into the afterlife. That he didn’t smack into the concrete below is just too good to be true.

He tries to push himself up into a more steady position to figure out what the hell is going on, only to find that he  _ can’t.  _ He’s caught in the net, suit completely stuck to the material.

“Wha-” Tony struggles to take in his surroundings, scanning the edge of the buildings the net is attached to. It doesn’t take long to find the red-and-blue-clad figure perched on a roof, staring at him interestedly.

It takes less than second for Tony to put two and two together. He tries to wave down the figure but huffs when he remembers that he  _ can’t. _

“Well, this is embarrassing!” he says loudly, glancing at all the people taking pictures of him from below. He tries, with very little success, to fully face the figure on the roof. “Hey, Spider-Man!” he calls. “How ‘bout a little help?”

Tony watches curiously as the figure freezes for a second before scuttling out onto the net - webbing, Tony now realizes.

“Oh, wow!” Spider-Man exclaims once he gets closer. “Mr. Stark, what an honor, sir.” The kid sounds breathless from a mixture of nerves, adrenaline, and excitement. “I never imagined we’d meet like this. Or, like, at all.”

_ Jesus Christ,  _ Tony thinks to himself.  _ Kid can’t be past the age of 20, if that.  _ “Really?” he deadpans. “Because this is  _ exactly  _ what I imagined.” The kid looks away sheepishly, looking back only when Tony starts to struggle against the webbing.

“Oh, sh- crap, sorry. I didn’t really think this far ahead,” Spider-Man admits.

Tony gives him a look filled with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Not old enough to curse?”

“What?” the kid sputters indignantly. “Of course I am!”

Tony smirks. “Sure. So do you have some sort of magic goo to get this off? There’s already going to be enough pictures of this online - no need to linger, I think.”

Spider-Man jumps. “Oh yeah, sorry! Hold on.” The kid fumbles with his sleeve for a moment before pulling out a canister next to his web shooter.

“You apologize a lot,” Tony observes, and the kid winces.

“Ah, well. Force of habit,” he says, taking the lid off the canister.  _ What the hell does  _ that  _ mean?  _ “Here, I don’t have a lot left, but I figure we can spread this around your suit so it dissolves most of it enough so you can move? The rest will dissolve in two hours.”

Tony shrugs. “That’s fine.”

The kid nods and quickly puts a few drops where Tony’s hands are. He sighs in relief when he can move them again, holding out a hand to let the kid pour some solution into it before rubbing it like lotion along his suit. He watches in fascination as the sticky webbing holding his suit hostage dissolves. Finally, once his feet are free, Tony is able to shakily get up and crawl along the net like a some sort of rope ladder. It swings precariously, and he can hear the people below murmur apprehensively to each other.

He breathes a sigh of relief when his feet meet the stability of the roof, not a fan of swinging precariously over the city streets. Spider-Man settles next to him on the roof, and Tony tugs at stray pieces of webbing stuck in the joints of his suit.

“Ah, sorry about that. If I had any more dissolvent made, I’d give it to you, but that was the last of it,” Spider-Man tells him.

Tony just shrugs, dropping his hands in defeat. “That’s gotta be your third apology in as many minutes, kid. You’re fine. You said this stuff will dissolve within two hours, right?” The masked vigilante nods. “Then, yeah, no harm done.”

The kid sags a little, body language screaming of relief, and Tony can’t help but feel a little bad. He knows Spider-Man doesn’t always get treated the best by the public, so he’s probably even more scared of pissing a big public figure like Tony off.

“That was some good work, kid,” Tony praises, watching Spider-Man straighten up at the compliment. “Quick thinking, and the webbing and the solution to dissolve it is pretty impressive.”

“I -  _ wow.  _ Thank you so much, sir. That’s - that’s really incredible, coming from you,” Spider-Man stutters, sounding younger than ever. Something in his voice, muffled behind the mask, rings familiar to Tony, but he can’t quite place it.

His brain briefly flashes to the image of Peter Parker, looking lonely and uncertain yet enthusiastic at the Expo, but Tony quickly dismisses the thought. He can tell Spider-Man is young, but the idea that he’s a sophomore in high school is ludicrous.

“I’m just a man in a can,” Tony jokes flippantly. “I’ve just gotta ask, though… How did you manage to get it to have so much tensile strength?”

The kid tenses a little and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Oh, you know…”

Tony waits a moment, but Spider-Man just trails off. “I actually  _ don’t  _ know. Sort of why I asked,” Tony says lightly. When he still doesn’t say anything, posture almost defensive, Tony holds his hands up. “Okay, okay, I get it. We all have our secrets.”

Spider-Man freezes for a second before giving a minute shake of his head and relaxing his posture again. It happens so quickly that Tony wonders if he was just imagining it. “It’s a  _ secret _ , Mr. Stark. I can’t just tell people how I made it! Even if you broke the webbing on your suit down to its components, you wouldn’t know the precise steps and measurements to make it.”

Tony nods good-naturedly. Honestly, he’s glad to see the kid isn’t willing to go around handing out the formula to any curious person who asks - even if that person is Tony. Webbing like that in the wrong hands can do just as much damage as it fixes.

“Fair enough,” Tony concedes. The boy nods in what Tony’s sure is relief before shifting from foot to foot, looking anxious to go. “Got places to be?”

“Um, kind of?”

“Well, I’m going to have my driver come pick me up. Need a lift?” Tony offers, surprised at himself. He can’t help but feel drawn to the kid, who’s clearly very intelligent. Tony groans inwardly.  _ I’m going soft,  _ he thinks.

Spider-Man shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good. I’ve just got some errands to run while I’m out and then patrol before I go home for the night.”

Tony shrugs - well, as best as he can with the sticky webbing making his suit hard to move. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah, I am.” The kid lingers awkwardly a second before saying, “Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Mr. Stark! Sorry it had to be in the midst of a  _ sticky situation. _ ”

Tony groans loudly. “That was awful. Terrible. Get out of my sight.”

“Oh, come on!” the kid protests. “It was a little funny.”

“Not even a little bit,” Tony says adamantly.

“You’re just jealous. Wait, I have another one,” Spider-Man says, and Tony raises an eyebrow.

“No, thank you.”

“Iron Man got caught in a spider web. That’s pretty…  _ iron-ic  _ don’t you think?” The kid wheezes, and Tony gives him a blank look, trying to hide the twitch of his lips. The puns are terrible, but his enthusiasm is infectious.

“I thought you had errands to run,” Tony says pointedly.

“Oh, yeah,” Spider-Man says, still chuckling to himself. “See ya around, Mr. Stark!”

He gives Tony an awkward little wave before running to the edge of the roof and jumping off, slinging out a web to catch himself. Tony shakes his head in amusement, feeling lighter than he has in awhile. For a brief moment, he considers trying to follow the boy to try and figure out his identity but ultimately thinks better of it.

Even if his suit were in any condition to fly, Tony can respect that Spider-Man wants to keep his true identity a secret. Plus, that’d be a hell of a way to repay him for saving his life. Instead, Tony says, “FRIDAY, let Happy know I need a ride back to the Tower.”

“Of course, boss.”

As he waits, Tony tries to get the suit to retract, but with the joints so clogged from the thick webbing, it refuses to release him. Great. This’ll be fun. He clumsily walks down the fire escape to wait for Happy, waving to the people down below and trying to act like this wasn’t a result of a ridiculous accident.

When Happy pulls up, he opens his mouth to speak, but Tony immediately cuts him off. “Don’t ask.”

“Frankly, Tony, this is not the weirdest position I’ve found you in,” Happy says, and Tony glares at him.

“You’re fired,” Tony snarks as he climbs into the car, wincing as his suit scrapes the inside of it. He tries to go for the seatbelt for a moment, before realizing that he’s already about as safe as he can be in the suit.

For the rest of the ride, Happy wisely doesn’t say anything, but he does occasionally shoot Tony looks of mirth, and Tony’s happy when they finally pull up to the Tower. With any luck, Pepper will be occupied and he can slip away to his lab to wait out the remaining time it takes for the webs to dissolve.

He walks in, suit clanking obnoxiously on the linoleum, and Tony cringes when Pepper and Rhodey turn from where they’re sitting in the living room. Rhodey raises an eyebrow at him.

“What the hell happened to you? You look like you got caught in a big ass spider web.”

Tony blinks. “Wow, that was really just a guess?”

Rhodey shrugs and gestures to the stringy bits of webbing caught all over his suit. “I mean, have you looked at yourself?”

“Yeah, I had Happy pull over so I could get a good look at my reflection in a shop window. Jesus.” Tony shakes his head. “But yes. My suit malfunctioned. Was about to go splat when a certain little spider caught me in his web. Literally.”

Rhodey chokes. “ _ Spider-Man  _ saved you? God, that’s ironic.”

Tony sighs. “Thank you. It’s not like he already pointed that out or anything,” he grumbles, and behind him, Happy snorts. Even Pepper looks amused. “Oh, don’t give me that look.”

Pepper smiles sweetly. “What look? My ‘you should have gone to the meeting like you were supposed to instead of frolicking through the skies’ look? Because I’m absolutely going to keep giving you that look.”

“Did you just say ‘frolicking’? I don’t  _ frolic,  _ Pepper. Just - you know what? I’m feeling attacked right now. In my own home, in fact,” Tony says, pouting childishly at Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy. He watches them exchange amused looks and huffs, walking towards the exit. “I’ll be in the lab. Feel free to leave me alone.”

Behind him, Pepper laughs, and Tony’s glad she knows he’s only joking. He slowly makes his way to the lab and collapses stiffly on the couch. He’s not really sure what he plans to do for the remaining hour and a half, but he can’t help but pick at the strings of webbing, trying to speed up the process.

Tony eyes the dirty, oil-streaked cloth that’s slung over his desk chair and gets up, thinking that scrubbing at it might help. He fumbles with the cloth for a moment, metal gloves making it hard to grip, and is just about to head back to the couch when a vial on his desk catches his eye.

It’s Peter Parker’s project from the Expo.

_ “Once I got fairly close to replicating Spider-Man’s web formula, I decided to go smaller,” Peter said. _

_ “Wait a second. You managed to replicate Spider-Man’s formula?” Tony had asked incredulously. _

_ “Um. Yeah?” _

Tony sets the cloth down and reaches instead for the vial, wheels turning in his head. He wonders how close the kid got to Spider-Man’s actual formula. It occurs to him now that he can see for himself. All he has to do is compare the components of both.

It takes awhile to get samples of each, his gauntlets hindering more than helping, but eventually he manages to get samples for FRIDAY to analyze.

“Analyzing now. This might take a few minutes, Boss,” the AI warns, and Tony sits back to wait.

“That’s fine, FRI. I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Actually-”

“I wasn’t asking for suggestions,” Tony groans, rolling his eyes. FRIDAY wisely says nothing more, and Tony watches the screen in front of him fill with information. He reads it aloud, trying to think and sort it all.

“Salicylic acid, Toluene, Methanol, h-heptane, Carbon tetrachloride, BHA… That actually makes sense, okay. Potassium carbonate, ethyl acetate…” Tony’s eyes quickly switch to the other screen that’s filling with information on Peter Parker’s spider silk formula. “Salicylic acid, BHA, ethyl acetate… Wait a second. FRIDAY, how similar are these?”

“The proportions between the two are entirely different, sir. And Peter Parker’s web fluid contains less components overall, but the polymer chains that are created when each version makes contact with the air are almost identical… Overall, there’s a 78.013% similarity.”

Tony’s eyes widen and he lets out a breath, brain buzzing with all the information. All the threads of data and information since the Expo start knitting together furiously in his head. Quickly taking out his phone, Tony pulls up the first picture of Spider-Man that was ever taken and eyes the date before pulling up the missing child report on Peter Parker. His blood freezes in his veins.

“FRIDAY, what are the odds that two separate people would manage to come up with identical polymer chains in an attempt to recreate a spider silk from scratch?” Tony asks. For some reason, he’s afraid of the answer. His eyes are fixated on the two dates in front of him.

“Approximately one in eleven thousand, three hundred and forty-six,” the AI informs him.

Tony takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Science, he knows, does not lie.

“It’d be accurate, then, to say these two formulas were created by the same person?”

Tony holds his breath as he waits for an answer. But looking at the dates, he already knows what FRIDAY will say.

Because just after Peter Parker went missing… Spider-Man emerged.

“It seems probable, Boss.”

Tony falls back onto the stool behind him and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Well, shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter drove me nuts. It turned out way differently from what I had outlined, but I feel like this fit better. The next chapter will probably be entirely Peter's POV since this one was all Tony's. Sorry if this was a whole mess.
> 
> And sorry for the late update, by the way. I had finals, then I moved home from my dorm, found out we're adopting more kids and have been fixing up the house, and then I got distracted plotting an Endgame fix-it. I start my job tomorrow, too, so I'm sorry if I'm not on top of it in the future.
> 
> Jeez, I apologize too much. Anyway, please let me know what you think, and thank you so much for all the love and support I've gotten so far. It means more than I can say!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: HEED THE TAGS. The end of the chapter does have an instance of sexual abuse/rape. It's not graphic, but it's there, and if that triggers you, I strongly advise you to skip the end or stop reading entirely. Your safety comes first. I love you guys.

For thousands of years, people have used the North Star, Polaris, to guide them home. It is the only thing that hangs steady while the entire northern sky turns around it.

If you’re lucky, your parents are your North Star. They’re your constant in a world full of variables. When you’re lost, you look up to them. You look at them and they smile and they open their arms and you run to them, and suddenly, everything is okay.

But what most people don’t know is that the North Star changes. It wasn’t always Polaris. Before that, the star Thuban played the role. And in roughly thirteen thousand years, Polaris will resign its position and the star Vega will take its place. The reason for this?

Put simply, Earth’s axis wobbles.

Your North Star won’t always be the one that guides you home.

When Peter learns this, he laughs. It all makes sense now.

* * *

Peter doesn’t remember much about Richard and Mary. But then again, no one ever really remembers much from when they were that little. There’s a sort of aura, though, a vague feeling around the hazy memories.

He thinks there must have been laughs and lazy mornings where he watched cartoons on the couch quietly. There were probably times where his parents had no clue what they were doing - because what new parents does? They probably sat together at the dinner table like a proper family.

Peter wonders if there were ever moments where they looked into his crib with wonder, in awe that they made him. If they ever picked him up and peppered him with kisses and cooed over his first word. He wonders if their chests ached on stressful mornings where they had to leave him with Ben and May so they could go to work, if they spent all day waiting for the moment they could get back to him.

There is one thing he’s pretty certain of, though.

They loved him. He’s sure they loved him, because whenever he tries to think as far back as he possibly can, to when he was with them, he just feels warm - the kind of warm you feel when you sit under the sun after getting out of the pool on a summer day.

Love, he thinks, is as much of an energy as it is an emotion. It’s transferred from person to person. It charges you up. It moves you. It  _ changes  _ you.

And then, like the changing of the tides, it eventually dies out.

* * *

Peter’s favorite memory with May is the day she had a day off work and surprised him with a trip to the aquarium, just the two of them. Maybe it was his parents’ doing, but Peter’s always been a dork through and through, and his latest obsession is marine biology.

He’d sit and watch  _ Blue Planet  _ documentaries for hours, read  _ National Geographic  _ magazines, and check out books at the library. He wanted to drink in every fact, from the blue whale to the smallest polyp. Everything about the ocean is fascinating to him.

When May gently wakes him up that morning, he blinks blearily at her. “May? Am I late?” he asks sleepily. He thinks about having to go to school and groans. He loves learning, obviously, but middle school is a piece of hell on Earth, he’s sure of it.

She smiles down at him softly. “No, baby. I’m off work today, so I thought we could go out today.”

He blinks at her. “But I have school.”

May laughs. “I already called and told them you were sick. I want you to myself today,” she says, sticking a hand out and ruffling his hair. He scrunches his nose and bats her hand away, even as he subconsciously leans into the tender touch. “Come on, get ready and I’ll have breakfast waiting.”

“Uh, in that case, maybe I  _ won’t  _ get ready,” Peter quips, flinging off the covers anyway.

She rolls her eyes. “And by ‘breakfast’ I mean that I’ve got donuts waiting in the kitchen.”

Peter grins and quickly speeds through getting ready. He’s never actually gotten the chance to go to the aquarium, but he’s read about most of the animals there. A part of him worries about missing a day of classes and the amount of makeup work he has. But then he thinks of Flash and his taunts and decides a day away from him is worth it.

When he’s done, he quickly makes his way to the kitchen and spies May making a cup of coffee.

“May, I’m ready!” he calls enthusiastically as he grabs a donut.

She quickly puts a lid on her travel mug and flashes him a bright smile. It warms him, the same way he feels warm when he thinks about a childhood with his parents.

On their way out, she slings an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

This is one of the last Good Moments.

(The ones he doesn’t think about are the Bad Ones. He doesn’t think about how, for the next two years, he watched May’s health wither away from round after round of chemo. He never thinks about how it felt the first time the vacuum clogged up with her hair, or how sometimes he would hear her crying and other times it would be Ben crying.

But he  _ feels  _ it. He feels his Earth start to tilt off its axis, and it scares him.)

* * *

There is an interlude in his life where, like a partially fallen tree, he’s forced to bend at a weird angle to reach the light. In other words, he adapts.

He and Ben are all they have left, and it’s a new system they have to get used to. And they do. It just takes some time to get there.

Some days, everything flows. They get up and they find their rhythm and they learn to live their new normal. Their bones protest the motion of  _ forward  _ but they keep going and going and going, because they have to.

But sometimes, Peter wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up and he doesn’t want to do anything or be anything, and darkness threatens to stain every inch of a world he once knew to be bright.

Ben pokes his head into Peter’s room on one of those days and calls to him. “Peter, it’s time to get up, buddy. You’re gonna be late for school.” When Peter doesn’t respond, Ben’s footsteps come closer and he tugs at Peter’s covers. “ _ Peter _ ,” he says sharply. “Up. Now.”

Peter feels tears well up behind closed lids, and he swallows against the lump in his throat. It’s not enough. A whimper works its way up and pries itself through his lips, unbidden, and he hears Ben take in a sharp breath beside him.

He feels the bed dip and holds his breath. Every moment feels fragile, like it hangs on a scale. But Ben doesn’t speak, so eventually, Peter rolls over to face him. Peter looks at him, gaze searching and searching and searching, desperately, for proof that his world will steady itself again.

“I want May,” he whispers, a broken confession. Like it’s a sin. He watches Ben’s face fall, and he thinks that maybe it is.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says, and he looks so so tired that Peter suddenly wishes he could take his words back. He looks up at Ben with wide eyes and watches as the man seems to make a decision before swinging his legs up onto the bed so he’s sitting alongside Peter, back resting against the headboard.

Peter can’t help the way he gravitates towards him. He can’t help but feel safe with Ben present. The man carefully brings a hand to Peter’s head and gently tugs through the soft curls as he searches for the right words to say. He clears his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Ben repeats. “I know… I know this isn’t ideal. I know that I can’t fix this. I can see you trying, and I am so, so proud of you, Peter. I know she is, too.” Ben pauses, and the tears that Peter woke up with begin to spill at the mention of her. He turns his face into Ben’s thigh and thinks about how much love he has for May and nowhere for it to go.

It’s not fair.

“I just want to go back to sleep,” Peter whines. He feels like a child, but he can’t  _ help  _ it. It hurts. Ben’s thumb brushes tenderly over his cheek, swiping at a few stray tears.

“I can’t let you do that, bud,” he says sadly.

“ _ Why? _ ” Peter asks childishly, hating himself a little. He just wants to go back to Before, but since he can’t do that, he’ll take the next-best alternative - staying here with Ben, where it’s warm and brighter than it is anywhere else. The only piece of home he has left.

Ben sighs again. “I know it hurts today. I know it does, because I feel it, too. I miss her. We’re going to spend a lot more todays hurting. But eventually, I just know that we’re going to get to a tomorrow and it’ll be bearable. And we can’t stop, we can’t let today get in the way of what those tomorrows have to offer. Does…” Ben grimaces a little at his less-than-eloquent-words. “Does that make sense?”

Peter closes his eyes for a moment. A selfish part of him thinks that he doesn’t want any more tomorrows if they don’t have May in them.

But then he opens his eyes and looks into Ben’s and knows he has to keep going. Slowly, Peter nods. Ben looks relieved. He ruffles Peter’s hair affectionately before hoisting himself off the bed dramatically.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbles, but the smile he sends Peter’s way is full of fondness. Ben holds out a hand, and Peter takes it, pulling himself up and steadying himself with it.

For a second, he just stands there. And then he lunges forward and wraps his arms around Ben tightly. “Thank you,” he says, voice muffled in his shirt.

Ben’s arms come up to wrap around him. “Thank  _ you, _ ” he says gruffly. He pulls away and looks Peter straight in the eyes. “Just - don’t forget to make way for tomorrow, kiddo. You’d be surprised at what it has to offer.

* * *

When Ben gets shot, Peter screams.

His world tilts on its axis, and he falls next to the lifeless body.

All he can do is cry.

* * *

He knew he’d be put into foster care. That  _ is  _ the protocol in situations like these, after all. But there’s something about knowing you’re an orphan twice over - he can’t get used to the taste of the words, “My whole family is dead.” The words just sit on his tongue, blocky and sour, threatening to choke him, because he sure as hell can’t say them aloud.

The caseworker tells him that this is the best possible scenario for him. That he’ll get to keep attending Midtown with his friends. That he won’t even be far from him and Ben’s old apartment. That his new foster dad is one of the best.

His caseworker introduces them to him, and Peter shrinks back. His newly-acquired spidey sense is already raw from terror and grief, but as Mr. Wescott takes his hand and gives it a small shake, he can’t help the pure, unadulterated fear that rushes through him.

The man smiles softly. “I know this is all so scary, but I’m here to make this transition as smooth as possible for you. And I know it’s a bit cliche, but call me Skip. ‘Mr. Wescott’ makes me feel old.”

Peter nods shyly, and after introductions are made, the caseworker is quick to leave. Peter knows that he’s just another part of her job she has to complete before she can go home for the day, so he tries his best not to resent her for it.

The car pulls away, and Skip turns to him, kind smile dropping instantly. It gives Peter whiplash.

“Come on,” the man says shortly. “I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

Peter is shown to his room, and Skip leaves him there for a second. The man’s footsteps tread lightly, and if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, he’d never be able to keep track of the man. He’s grateful for small mercies.

Skip comes back holding a plate with a sandwich on it. Peter takes it hesitantly.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Skip gives him a cold look and turns around without a word. Peter sighs. At least the pretense didn’t last long enough for him to get his hopes up.

When he settles into the admittedly comfortable bed that night, he lays there and stares up at the ceiling and refuses to think of anything.

He never does fall asleep.

* * *

Skips sits down on the side of his bed the next morning, and Peter stares at him in a tired daze. There is no clock - he has no clue what time it is.

“Is it time for school?” he asks quietly.

Skip shakes his head, and every cell inside of Peter’s body screams. “I already called and told them you were sick. I want you to myself today,” Skip says, bringing a hand to Peter’s hip.

Peter jerks, trying to roll away, but his back hits the wall. He whimpers, a soft, pathetic sound. He’s heard those words before, spoken with love.

He never imagined they could be delivered this way.

“No -  _ please, _ ” Peter protests, but Skip doesn’t listen.

(The universe never does. It never considers what Peter wants.)

He climbs onto the bed next to Peter, and Peter thinks about Ben doing the same and running his fingers through Peter’s hand and telling him they’re going to be okay but not for awhile.

_ “We’re going to spend a lot more todays hurting.” _

Skip’s hands tug at the waistband of Peter’s sweatpants, and a sob rises in his throat. He pleads, from the bottom of his heart and the back of his throat - _please, don’t do this, I’ll do anything anything anything -_ but to no avail.

And then Skip moves against him, and Peter is helpless. He lays there, like May did as chemo wrecked her body. Like Ben did as blood spilled from his. And Peter’s not dead, but his eyes go lifeless anyway.

The sky breaks around him, and all he feels is cold.

* * *

He makes it just over two weeks before he runs.

He runs and runs and runs through an unforgiving city. He’s lived there all his life, and yet -

Peter is lost. When he looks up to the sky, there is nothing but darkness.

(This is what Peter learns:

Sometimes, the only North Star you have is yourself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can tell you a lot of things I dislike about this chapter, but I really just needed to get through it. Almost every single section hit on really sensitive topics for me, and if anything, I'm just really proud of myself for getting it written at all.
> 
> I know this isn't the chapter you guys wanted or expected, but it was always my intention to fill in the gaps a little. I really wanted to show you what brought Peter to where he is today, and I hope I did it justice and am so sorry if I didn't. I know this style of writing is different from the rest of this fic, so I hope it wasn't too jarring.
> 
> Thoughts/comments are much appreciated, as I'm really quite nervous about this chapter. I really can't thank you guys enough for the outstanding show of love and support you've given me so far. I think the next chapter will be the one you've all been waiting for!
> 
> And, as always, if you have any questions/thoughts/opinions, feel free to share them with me on tumblr @the-great-escapism!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This is the worst chapter yet in terms of god-awful writing and characterization. Sorry in advance.
> 
> Massive thanks to @losingmymindtonight. Without you, this (albeit shitty) chapter wouldn't be here, and I probably would have impulsively deleted this whole fic. Love you. <3

Tony’s first instinct is to physically go out and find the kid. Except, when he looks out the window, it’s pitch black outside, save for the city lights, and he’s met with the realization that hours have passed. And wherever Peter is, he’s probably (hopefully) settled in for the night. Odds are, Tony won’t find him.

Tony sighs, and from the corner, DUM-E whirs at him.

“Don’t tell me to go to sleep!” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “You go to sleep.” The bot quirks his claw at that, and Tony scoffs. “The  _ sass.  _ It’s criminal, honestly. Away with you, you rodent,” Tony scolds, shaking his head fondly as DUM-E rolls away, clicking and chirping all the while.

Tony spares a moment or two to consider tinkering around with his suit, but eventually, he just tells FRIDAY to close shop and heads up to him and Pepper’s room. Pepper is, as usual, already waiting for him.

“It’s almost two in the morning,” she informs him.

“Is it?” he asks, pretending to be surprised as he strips his shirt off and steps into a pair of sweatpants.

“Mhm,” she hums. “Go to sleep.” She shoves a pillow at him, and he climbs into bed next to her as she turns over to give him a quick kiss. Tony sighs into it, relaxing for the first time that night, and Pepper reaches up to massage his scalp. “Something on your mind?”

Tony closes his eyes for a second, briefly entertaining the thought of sharing what he’s discovered. He knows she could help, but something tells Tony that he should keep it to himself. There’s a reason why the kid’s worked so hard to keep his true identity a secret, and he doesn’t want to betray that.

He opens his eyes and smiles softly at her. “No more than usual,” he tells her, and she looks at him for a second before deciding to let it go. She nods and pulls the covers around her.

“Try to sleep,” she orders sternly, and Tony obediently closes his eyes as FRIDAY turns out the light.

To his credit, Tony really does try to sleep. But the second he hears Pepper’s breath even out next to him, his eyes fly open, and he stares up blankly at the ceiling, lost in thought.

He can’t help but think that somewhere out there, Peter Parker is sleeping, probably all alone. Where does he stay? With a friend? Or - God forbid - does he sleep in some sort of grimy alleyway, exposed and vulnerable?

Tony’s eyes flicker, almost against his will, to fancy clock on his bedside table. It shows the time, date, temperature, humidity, and forecast, and Tony looks at the temperature. It’s late spring, and even though the days are hot, nights still get pretty chilly, and Tony wonders if the kid has any way of staying properly warm.

The thought guts him, and he’s hit, suddenly, with the realization that the kid has  _ no one,  _ has been through two sets of guardians. Losing both of his own parents, Tony can’t even imagine what the poor kid must be feeling, having lost four at such a young age.

It makes Tony all the more eager to actually  _ talk  _ to him, to really know him and help him. Because Tony just can’t understand it. This kid lives in a world that’s taken  _ everything  _ from him - so why is he so hellbent on giving back?

Tony turns and looks at Pepper’s sleeping form wistfully. As much as he’d prefer to stay in bed next to her warmth, he knows he won’t get any sleep. Not with the sudden intense awareness of those who don’t get a warm place to stay at night. He tosses the covers off and scrapes a tired hand over his face.

He has work to do.

* * *

“Tony, you can’t just - start a whole new branch to Stark Industries without  _ telling  _ me first,” Pepper says in exasperation.

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” Tony says pointedly. They’re in Pepper’s office, both nursing cups of coffee while Tony waves at the documents FRIDAY has pulled up. Pepper, as usual, is immaculate in appearance, while Tony’s still in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt, dark smudges under his eyes from working all night.

Pepper huffs. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“It’s my best trait,” Tony quips, and Pepper rolls her eyes.

“I can already tell I’m not going to get anymore sleep for the next week,” she mutters, eyes scanning all the documents Tony typed up the night before. “You realize you won’t make any money from this, right? You will, in fact, be losing quite a lot.”

Tony’s almost offended by the question. “ _ Obviously.  _ That’s not - that’s not why I’m doing this, Pep. I’m a multi-billionaire - not sure if you’ve heard, but it’s true. I have plenty of money to spare, so I, out of the good of my - well, I’m not sure if I’m legally allowed to say heart, but whatever - want to do something nice.”

Pepper raises an eyebrow. “Out of the ‘goodness of your heart’?”

“God, Pep, you don’t have to sound so damn surprised,” Tony grits out, frustrated. Pepper studies him for a second, detecting his sincerity, and her face softens as she lets out a breath.

“Then tell me,” she says. “Because of  _ course  _ I believe you. There’s a reason why I gave you that reactor. You’re a good man, Tony Stark. But you’re also a business man, and I can’t see where this is coming from. This is - it’s pretty random, honestly. And if we’re going to commit to this, I need to make sure it’s something that sticks.”

“It  _ will.  _ Stick, I mean,” Tony says resolutely. “It’s just - I was laying in bed last night and it was lovely, and it hit me - you know, how things do - and there are people -  _ kids  _ \- who are just sleeping on the streets. And it occurred to me that there’s actually something I can do about that, you know?”

Tony starts pacing around the room, gesturing with his hands as he thinks of Peter, curled up on a filthy street. How does he get food? Shelter? What does he do when it rains? Why doesn’t he ask for help from his friends?

Pepper opens her mouth to say something, but Tony shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re going to say. Why am I only just caring about the homeless now? I’m afraid I’m guilty - a lot of people are, I think - of, of getting caught up in their own comfort and, I mean, of course I knew there are people living without a home, but now that I’m being confronted with this - this  _ reality,  _ I just feel like I have the power to do something to help, you know?”

By end of his little tirade, Tony is breathing hard, and he’s stopped pacing in favor of giving Pepper a pleading look, wanting her to understand. He can’t even explain why it’s hit him so hard, but he feels like this is something he needs to do.

Pepper carefully sets her mug down on the table and tilts her head. Tony can practically see the gears turning in her head. She takes another glance at the schematics he has pulled up before looking at him again.

“What was the catalyst?” she asks. Tony can’t help but feel relieved when her voice is free of judgment - just curious. “What set this off?”

Tony sucks in a breath and considers her question. He doesn’t  _ have  _ to tell her about Spider-Man. In fact, he probably definitely shouldn’t. But Peter Parker? That’s just a matter of public record.

“You know that kid at the Expo? The one that ran out on me?” he starts.

“How could I forget?” Pepper asks dryly, and Tony tosses her a dirty look.

“He, um… Well, I was going to take you and Rhodey’s advice, you know? Track him down and offer him that internship since I didn’t get a chance to then. So I called the school and everything, and they told me that he’s gone.”

Pepper frowns, looking concerned. “What? What does that even mean?”

“From what I’ve been able to gather, his last living relative died not long before the Expo. He was put into foster care and was only there for a few weeks before he stopped showing up to school. There’s a Missing Child report and everything - sounds like he ran away.”

He sees the moment Pepper’s eyes light up with understanding tinged with sadness. “Poor kid,” she says quietly, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” Tony agrees.

She looks at him for another moment before saying, “That kid really had an impact on you, huh?”

_ You have no idea,  _ Tony almost says. He knows, somehow, that chasing after Spider-Man won’t gain the kid’s trust. But maybe showing that he really cares about Peter Parker will be a step towards that, a step towards getting Peter the help and resources he deserves.

“He really is something, Pep. God, you should have seen him. There’s this - this spark in him. It’s amazing. The way he talked about his project, the thought he put into it - it’s all so… pure,” Tony says, because really, there’s no better word for it. “And he could do amazing things, could really go places if he wasn’t  _ stuck.  _ And I’ve never stopped to think about how that’s probably the case for  _ so many  _ people.”

Tony watches her nervously, wondering if she’s going to say no, to keep fighting him on this. But instead, she nods slowly and lifts a hand up to cup his cheek.

“Okay,” she says softly. “You don’t have to convince me anymore. I’m all in if you are.”

Tony can’t help but grin, leaning into her touch. God, he loves this woman. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before smirking. “I mean, I was going to do it anyway, but your blessing is always nice.”

Pepper lightly smacks his cheek fondly. “Just for that, I’m scheduling the press conference you’re going to be holding to announce this project for six o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Tony pulls away, pouting. “Eight o’clock,” he bargains. He is  _ not  _ getting up at the crack of dawn.

“Seven,” Pepper compromises, and Tony huffs. He supposes that’s as good as he’s gonna get.

“Fine,” he says.

Pepper reaches up to give him a quick kiss before saying, “I’d love to stick around, but I’ve got a company to run. And  _ you’ve  _ got a press conference to plan for.”

Tony waves her off good-naturedly and picks up a StarkPad as Pepper takes her leave.

“FRIDAY, help me get started on a new AI. Doesn’t need to be as advanced as Karen. Think: advanced vending machine. I think we’ll call her…” Tony pauses to think for a moment. “ARIYA.”

“Got it, boss,” FRIDAY replied. “Anything else?”

“Yeah," Tony says. "That warehouse that’s not far from here? I need to buy it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm so sorry. I took a mental health break from writing for ao3 and then ran into insane writer's block for this story. I decided to take a roundabout way for Tony and Peter meeting again, so this filler chapter was super necessary to set up what I'm trying to do. I know it's boring and confusing - you'll understand what Tony's doing next chapter, which I'm starting right now. I'm so sorry about the wait.
> 
> (Also, I owe you all a massive thanks for your support. I read and appreciate every comment, and every time I wanted to give up on this chapter, I'd come back and read some of them as encouragement. You guys are amazing.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I know this chapter/story isn't even remotely realistic. This is all just fiction and me slapping a bunch of coincidental situations to get the story I want, so pretty please be nice to me and don't call me out on how unrealistic it is. I'm literally winging this whole fic and I'm sorry if that lessens the quality.
> 
> That said, enjoy the chapter! I made this one longer in thanks for the response to the last chapter and in apology for the long wait!

Peter wakes up with a scratchy throat and stuffy nose, and he already knows the day’s gonna be rough. He swallows thickly, wincing at how sore his throat feels, and looks at Tilly who’s sleeping at his feet. He groans miserable and pushes himself up, wishing he could just roll over and go back to sleep.

Tilly peeks her head up at the blinks at him before moving up to offer him a kiss on the cheek.

“Yes, yes, good morning to you too,” Peter greets with an affectionate pat. He gently pushes her away and grabs a t-shirt and shorts from the bin next to him, wrinkling his nose. “I really need to shower today, huh?”

Peter misses a lot of things about having a home. Which seems like an obvious thing, because having a home is understood pretty universally as, like, a nice thing to have. But having an actual bathroom is pretty close to the top of the list when it comes to specifics.

He makes do well enough by using the employee bathroom at the storage unit, which Julian so kindly slipped Peter a key to, but God, what Peter wouldn’t give for a nice bath to soak in. With actual hot water. As it is, an old cloth and hand soap just have to suffice for now.

He pours some food on the floor and fills an old plastic cup with water for Tilly and slips out of the room, checking that the halls are clear before making his way to the bathroom. Julian is already at the front desk, looking tired and bored, and he perks up when he sees Peter.

“Good morning,” Julian greets tiredly, and Peter gives him a wry smile.

“Is it, though?” Peter half-jokes, and Julian grimaces.

“Fair point. You good? You sound sick.”

Peter shrugs. “I probably caught the plague or something. Who knows? I’ll swipe some ibuprofen from the store or something.”

Julian gives him a doubtful look. “Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. Oh, and Angie’s not coming in today, so if you wanna play cards or something later, I’m here and lonely.”

Peter laughs.  _ That could be the title of my life,  _ he thinks.  _ Peter Parker: Here and Lonely.  _ Out loud, he says, “I might take you up on that,” before escaping into the bathroom.

He quickly steps in front of the sink and turns the water on, hoping it doesn’t take long for warm water to run. He pauses when he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

Suddenly, Peter knows why Julian gave him such a doubtful look earlier. He looks awful. To be fair, Peter usually looks awful - a side effect of being homeless and all that - but today it is particularly obvious. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and his shoulders are sagging under the weight of carrying himself. He looks, for lack of a better word, sick.

_ Great,  _ Peter thinks to himself.  _ Just what I need.  _ He takes the washcloth and wets it before viciously scrubbing at his face, hoping it’ll put some life back into it. He sighs and scrubs down the rest of his body, his over-sensitive skin hating the feel of the cheap hand soap. Once that’s done, he sticks his head under the faucet, hoping to get rid of some of the grease, and makes a mental note to splurge on some actual body soap and shampoo.

When he’s finally finished, he slips out of the bathroom and heads back up to his “room,” where Tilly’s finished her breakfast and is waiting for him enthusiastically.

“You’re ready for the day, aren’t you? I guess we should get going. I need to buy ibuprofen and fight some bad guys, and you need a walk,” Peter tells the happy canine, grabbing his backpack with the suit, camera, and a small wad of cash in it.

He makes his way out of the storage unit, waving to Julian as he leaves and makes his way towards the city, Tilly trotting happily at his side. As he walks, he can’t help but notice how  _ tired  _ he is, and the thought of swinging around the city makes him groan aloud. To be honest, he didn’t even know he could still  _ get  _ sick because of the bite.

As he enters the thick of the city, Peter allows the buzz of people around him to soothe him, the chaos familiar and comforting in its own strange way. He starts tuning in, listening for problems and gossip and news.

He hears a man on the phone talking to what Peter assumes must be his wife, saying he probably won’t be home for dinner, and Peter can’t help but think if he had an actual home to go to, he’d never miss a day of dinner.  _ Someone should tell that man to hang tight to what he’s got _ , Peter thinks bitterly.

He shakes his head, willing himself not to dwell on such negative thoughts, knowing it won’t get him anywhere, and trains his eyes on a random screen for something to focus on. And then he does a double take as a headline running across the bottom of the screen catches his eye.

_ STARK SOLUTIONS: INITIATIVE TO HELP THE HOMELESS _

Taken aback, Peter jerks his eyes to the center of the screen, watching what appears to be a press conference. He steps closer to the shop with the television so he can hear what’s being said and notices a couple other people have stopped to do the same.

“ - exactly is the goal with this new program?” a reporter is asking. Tony smiles, an answer ready on his lips.

“It’s a simple goal, stated in the name of the AI that’s been created to help execute it,” he answers smoothly, and Peter tilts his head with interest. “ARIYA or Accessible Resources for Impoverished Youths and Adults.”

Peter narrows his eyes, shifting nervously from foot to foot, as if talk of poverty and homelessness will magically give himself away to the people around him.

“Mr. Stark, why the sudden interest in this cause?” another reporter asks, and Peter can’t help but wonder the same. Anxiety shoots through him at the timing of it all - him, a homeless person - meeting Tony Stark and then Tony taking an interest in homeless people?

Peter shakes his head at himself.  _ Don’t be paranoid, Parker. Mr. Stark lives in a big world and you don’t even register on his radar.  _ Still, he can’t help but listen in.

“I think ‘sudden’ isn’t entirely accurate. The heightened awareness is, admittedly, of the more recent nature but most participates in the Expo show how much money and funding was put into their project, usually advertised so observers and sponsors can see, ‘Wow, it takes a lot of money to do what they do and I think this research is interesting so I’d like to help with the funding.’ Predictably, most budgets for these projects were large.”

Tony pauses, looking around the room and then smiling. Peter sees the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts gives him a small smile back as the camera follows Tony’s gaze.

“My  _ lovely  _ CEO,” Tony says while gesturing dramatically towards her, “and I poured over the numbers and it occured to me that - hey, not everyone has the funds to execute the ideas in their heads. It’s just one of those things that opened up a - a door for me, to realize that a lot of amazing people can’t show off their amazingness because they don’t even have their basic needs met.”

Immediately, hands go flying up around the room, vying for his attention. “And how do you plan on having those ‘basic needs’ met, Mr. Stark?” a man asks, and Tony smiles, clearly having expected the question. He pulls out his phone and taps the screen, laying it on the podium next to him and watching as a hologram of an old warehouse appears.

“This is going to be a center of sorts. Not necessarily a shelter, but a building that will provide up to two meals a day, free wifi, minimal medical services, and assistance with finding a more permanent place to stay,” Tony announces proudly, and immediately, the room fills quick chattering.

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s not sure how something like that would work… but holy crap. That’s… that could be big for a lot of people. A lot of people like  _ him. _

Tony waits for the crowd to quiet to a low murmur before pointing to a woman in the back. “Mr. Stark, how would something like this work? Are you hiring people to run it? How would you keep people from taking advantage of it?”

“You, my dear, are asking all the right questions. But I’m already ahead of you. During the day, it’ll be staffed by a few employees who will be in charge of maintenance, making food, re-stocking, and checking people in and out. And my darling AI, ARIYA, which I’m affectionately calling my insomnia baby since I programmed her last night, will run the place at night.”

The camera turns to show some people looking interested, while others just look skeptical. Tony puts his hands out as if tugging at the edges of the hologram and the image pans out, showing the inside. Then, he waves his hand and what looks like a bunch of vending machines line themselves along one wall.

“ARIYA will be running what I call The Lunchbox. How this whole place will work is, people can show up, and on the first visit, they’ll be given a card that they can swipe. Sort of like a college dining hall, except it’s free. Each person can get two swipes a day. They can swipe for a sandwich, chips, fruit, and water,” Tony explains. “Not exactly gourmet, but enough to sustain people.”

As he speaks, Peter can see that the people around Tony are considering his words, starting to look more receptive to the idea. And Peter can’t lie - it  _ is  _ good. On top of just providing some resources, it will also provide some jobs for people.

“There’ll be an additional vending machine with over the counter medicines, but ARIYA will do a scan to see if they’re needed,” Tony continues. “We’ll also have plenty of information available and resources to find more permanent fixes. This isn’t meant to be a permanent solution for people to rely on solely, but rather serve as a stepping stone for them.”

Peter thinks about his words. Everything seems sound to him, but he can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s some sort of ulterior motive. And while he looks up to Tony Stark - has for ages - he doesn’t know if he can trust the man. Businessmen always have money on the brain, and Peter’s sure that Tony Stark is no exception.

As if reading Peter’s mind, the next reporter asks, “How will this benefit you? What do you have to gain?”

Tony laughs, and Peter can’t help but think there’s a bitter edge to it. Interesting. “Nothing, except maybe some peace of mind,” Tony says and then gives them a wry look. “Surprising, I know. But this is something I really want to do and, not to sound pretentious, but I’d certainly say I’ve got money to spare.”

Without being called on, someone calls out to him and says, “Mr. Stark! What makes us think we can trust that? How do we know you’re there isn’t something deeper behind the scenes, that you’re not doing this to hold it over people’s heads?”

Instantly, Tony’s eyes narrow, and Peter winces. He’d  _ hate  _ to be on the receiving end of that glare. “I can’t make you trust anything I say. But by that logic, you should start questioning everyone who does anything for charity,” Tony says tightly. “If people don’t want to utilize it - fine. I’m not forcing it on anyone. So people can use it or they can not. If no one does, I’ll just pack up and find a different cause to put my money to.”

Peter can’t help but feel a flash of guilt. After all,  _ he’d  _ been one of the people doubting Tony’s intentions, almost immediately. He watches as the man coldly turns away from the reporter and points out another one, face already softening.

“Mr. Stark, this sounds like quite a big project. When can we expect to see it open?” she asks curiously, and Tony smirks.

“I am nothing if not quick and efficient,” he says honestly. “My team, headed by Pepper, of course, is already working and will continue working around the clock. The AI’s done, we’ll be hiring people throughout the week, and the installation shouldn’t be hard. Saturday shouldn’t be impossible.”

An instant murmur fills the room, a mixture of excitement and disbelief, and even Peter feels his own eyebrows raising. Today is Tuesday. That’s… definitely ambitious, but from what he knows about Tony Stark, Peter’s sure he can make it happen. He just never expected Tony to put a project like this at the forefront of everything else.

He watches as Tony gives the crowd and final smile and wave, wrapping up the press conference, and suddenly Peter’s back on planet earth. Turns and blinks rapidly, feeling as if he’d just stepped out of the press conference himself. The people who’d stopped alongside him to watch the footage as well are long gone, and Tilly is laying down at his feet, clearly bored.

“Sorry, girl,” Peter apologizes to the canine, and she hops up and nudges his leg. “Come on, then. I need to get some pictures developed and turned in to Jameson before he kills me, and I need ibuprofen before I die. Actually, reverse the order. Drugs first.”

He walks into a shop and picks out a bottle of ibuprofen, not wanting to pay for the more expensive cold medicine, and as he checks out, Peter’s reminded of Tony’s promise to have over the counter medications available for free.  _ I could really use that right now,  _ he thinks.

But even as the thought crosses his mind, Peter knows he probably wouldn’t go. He could tell from Tony’s words that the man really does genuinely want to help, but Peter still can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it. Not necessarily  _ bad,  _ per se, but the feeling is enough to put him off.

Peter pockets the medicine and walks out of the store.  _ No,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ I don’t need to rely on Tony Stark’s charity to survive. _

* * *

By the time Saturday rolls around, Peter is very much rethinking that statement. He’s laying on the cool floor of the storage unit and, somewhat hysterically, all Peter can think is,  _ I’m dying. _

He’s not sure how he made it through the rest of the week. Maybe sheer, stubborn determination and the fact that another monthly payment for the storage unit was due, but since he doesn’t need to go in to work this weekend, Peter’s content to ditch patrol altogether and just lay there, moving only to use the bathroom and take Tilly out.

His head is positively  _ pounding,  _ swallowing is excruciating, and his ears  _ hurt.  _ He’s shivering on the floor, which he distantly registers as being strange, considering how hot he is. Briefly, he considers going down and asking Julian for help or something, but even just the thought of having to get up fills Peter with bone-deep exhaustion.

The day passes in a haze of exhaustion and pain, and he finds himself drifting in and out of sleep. At some point, Tilly presses close to him, head laying on his stomach as she watches him with concern, and he forces a small smile onto his face.

“‘M’okay girl,” he croaks out, nearly crying at how sore his throat is. He decides on never talking again and settles on giving her a gentle pat. The effort it takes to do even that wears him out, and he lets his arm fall limply next to him.

He’s thankful when sleep takes him again.

* * *

He wakes up on ice.

Or, at least, he  _ feels  _ like he’s on ice. He has no clue what time it is, only that there is no light coming through his window, and he’s curled up around Tilly in an effort to keep warm. He tries to swallow and lets out a choked whimper at the way his throat aches and ears twinge painfully.

This is the worst cold he’s ever had - he’s never felt anything like this - but Peter thinks this must be that. Or… something. His brain is too tired to think straight, much less self-diagnose. He fumbles for Ben’s lantern and flicks it on, wincing at the light as he pushes himself up to a sitting position.

Tilly is watching his watching his worriedly, and Peter feels a flash of guilt. He slept through dinner time, and she probably needs to go out. “Sorry,” he forces out, and she nudges him sweetly.

He forces himself to stand and stumbles at the wave of lightheadedness that nearly lands him back on the floor and takes a few deep breaths.  _ Fuck,  _ he thinks.  _ I haven’t eaten at all today. _

For a normal person, that’s already not great. But for someone with an enhanced metabolism? Very Bad. But even the mere thought of trying to force one of his granola bars down his aching throat makes him want to cry, so he pushes his hunger aside and reaches for the bottle of ibuprofen.

There are only two pills left.

_ That can’t be right,  _ Peter thinks desperately. He shakes the bottle again and then looks into it, as if there will be some sticking to the inside. Sure, he’d taken plenty over the past four days or so - he had to compensate for his metabolism - but almost _ all fifty? _

Peter leans heavily against the wall and lets out a shaky breath. He can’t - he can’t  _ do  _ this. He’d figured it would go away on its own. Usually, whenever he’s gotten sick, all he had to do was ride it out and it would eventually relent. But he’s only getting worse.

He grabs his water bottle and swallows down the rest of the pills before moving to feed Tilly, who jumps enthusiastically at the late dinner.

Then, he simply sits down and watches her eat, trying to break through the haze in his brain enough to figure out the best course of action.

He’s not even sure what time it is, but he’s pretty sure if he stays here the rest of the night with no medicine or substantial food, he might just freeze and starve to death. But who could even help him?

Peter knows Julian would be more than happy to help, except he never works Sundays. Angie usually works and she’s mean and scary and also has no clue there’s a teenager living here. So that’s out.

_ Ned,  _ his feverish brain supplies, and Peter feels a flash of longing. He misses his best friend so badly, and the thought of showing up, knowing that Ned would rush to help him and maybe even let him lay in an actual bed sounds so good that it’s almost too tempting to pass up.

But then he pushes the thought down. As much as he wants to, he just  _ can’t.  _ Ned is terrible at keeping his mouth shut, and Peter just can’t risk anyone at school finding out that he’s been in contact with Ned. It’d put his friend in trouble and it’d only be harder to leave again.

His brain flashes back to the press conference he’d watched earlier in the week, and he wonders if it ended up opening on time. Considering what he knows of Tony Stark, he figures it probably did open on time, if not earlier.  _ This is almost too convenient,  _ he thinks to himself.

Peter knows the warehouse that Stark indicated in the conference, but the thought of walking an hour and a half to get there seems almost impossible. Just standing is almost too much.

But… if he can get meds that are even slightly better than the ones he just finished off, and maybe some actual food and water… it might be worth it. And maybe possibly sleep for an hour or two inside somewhere that hopefully has a heater.

He draws himself up as Tilly finishes her food and trots over to him happily.

“I’m gonna hate this, aren’t I?” he says, wincing at the pain that comes with the words.  _ Right,  _ he remembers.  _ No talking. _

Peter forces himself to his feet again and looks at Tilly. He’s sure she’ll love the opportunity to get out and stretch her legs after being cooped up all day. Peter grabs his backpack and slides on his web shooters just in case, and briefly entertains the thought of just swinging over. It  _ would  _ be faster.

But then he shakes his head and decides against it. He may be desperate for nourishment and medicine, but he still can’t say he fully trusts the AI that runs it. Stark’s AI’s are known for being incredibly advanced pieces of tech, and he’s not sure if there are sensors or cameras that’d be able to see his mask, whether worn or hidden.

So he resigns himself to walking, picking Tilly up and climbing out the window of the storage unit. There’s no one around to see him.

The trek is about as bad as he imagined it would be. His limbs are heavy and sore, his mouth is dry, and halfway through the walk, he’s already finished his water bottle. His stomach burns, and he forces down a granola bar, nearly bursting into tears at the pain.

The world around him is hazy, lights blurring together. It seems like he’s only moved a couple of inches, and he hopes that there is  _ something  _ in that fucking machine that will alleviate some of his pain.

As soon as the warehouse comes into view, he gets tunnel vision. The lights inside are dim, and Peter squints through the darkness to see a tent set up next to the building with a large sign that says ‘CHECK IN’.

He halts for a second, suddenly remembering that people run the place during the day and check people in. Peter’s heart stops and his stomach fills with dread at the possibility that he might not be able to get in.

_ But surely since the AI runs it at night, there’s a way for it to let me?  _ Peter thinks, trying to be optimistic. It doesn’t get rid of the knot in his stomach, but it does give him just enough hope to drag his burning, aching limbs the rest of the way there.

He practically collapses the weight of his body against the door and tugs at the door handle, not really expecting it to open but not knowing what else to do.

“Please swipe your card,” a cool voice says, and if Peter had any energy left, he would have jumped.

Instead, he just forces himself to speak, nearly choking on the words for how much it hurts. “I - I don’t have one.”

“Check-in for a card begins at six-thirty in the morning,” the AI supplies, and Peter nearly sobs at her words.

“I can’t - what time is it now?” he croaks out, on the verge of tears.

“A quarter till four in the morning,” it responds.

Peter’s eyes well up with tears, a sob rising in his throat which just makes it hurt more when he stutters out, “P-Please, can’t you - I just need - I don’t know -  _ something  _ to help, I’m sick.”

“I’m afraid I cannot authorize you entry without a card,” the computer responds. And maybe Peter’s just delirious at this point, but he could almost swear he hears a note of regret in the AI’s voice. “But I am happy to contact emergency services for you.”

“ _ No!”  _ Peter nearly yells, panic racing through his veins. “No. I’ll - I’ll just wait. Or something.”

“As you wish.” The AI falls silent after that, and Peter lets his back slide down the wall as he plops onto the ground.

_ Just a little over two hours,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ I can do this. It’ll be fine. _

Peter leans his head back against the door, trying to ignore the desperation and loneliness swelling in his chest. Tilly lays down next to him and whimpers softly, and Peter just blearily looks out into the distance, not really registering anything at all.

Everything feels just a little unreal, like this just can’t be his life. He still remembers what  _ good  _ feels like, what  _ happy  _ feels like. He still remembers family dinners and movie nights and baking Christmas cookies.

He remembers being warm and safe and  _ home. _

That one simple word, Peter’s deepest longing, causes the tears that have been threatening to fall over the past few days to finally spill down his cheeks, and he just lets them, breath hitching painfully. He’s never felt so vulnerable and small.

_ I want May,  _ he thinks with an almost childish whine.  _ I want Ben. _

His body is shaking violently now, but he’s not sure if it’s from crying or because he’s sick. He’s hit with a wave of pure exhaustion, and suddenly, even sitting propped up is taking too much effort, and Peter lets his body slump over sideways, not even flinching when he hits the ground.

Distantly, he feels Tilly nudge him, but he can’t be bothered to move. Everything is too hot and too cold and too painful and  _ too much _ , and his vision starts to darken at the edges. Deliriously, he thinks,  _ This might as well happen,  _ and then his eyes close for good.

He doesn’t wake up when the sun peeks over the edge of the horizon.

He doesn’t wake up when an Audi pulls up and a man walks out and quickly walks over to him, calling, “Hey, kid! Are you okay?”

He doesn’t even wake up when the man gently rolls Peter over so he can see his face. “Kid? Wait,  _ Peter?  _ Holy shit. FRIDAY, what’s wrong with him? Peter!”

He still doesn’t wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I hope this was okay! Sorry for the long wait. I was so sick I couldn't move for almost two weeks and then I moved in to my first apartment! And sorry if it feels rushed suddenly, I was just getting bored and wanted to get to the fun stuff because I'm awful, haha! Thank you to all the sweet people who came to my defense in the comments of the last chapter and who just said very nice things in general. It really encouraged me to keep writing when I was down.
> 
> I also want to take a moment to say that I understand that some elements of this are similar to Uncertainty_Principle's The Third Option. I promise it's not intentional. Part of it is just that I'm doing the same trope. I could never hope to write anything nearly as stunning as that amazing piece of writing, and I strongly encourage you guys to check it out if you haven't!
> 
> Lastly, I changed my tumblr url to @dazzlingtony (because he's just so pretty!!!), so I'm sorry if you tried to find me and couldn't. Come talk to me there! And please let me know what you think of this chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

The last thing Tony wanted to be doing at five o’clock in the morning was heading to his new warehouse. In a perfect world, he thinks, he’d still be very much asleep right now, buried under his soft comforter, with Pepper at his side.

But, unfortunately, he’d made a commitment. And part of it was that, since they’re still a bit understaffed, he’d go in an hour before opening everyday for the first week to help restock and check up on the coding for ARIYA. Basically, he has to make sure the place doesn’t fall apart before it even fully comes together.

So now he’s driving his car, packed full of boxes of sandwiches and chips and water bottles, and thinking about how, if he’s extra speedy, he might get home in time to take a nap before his first meeting of the day.

_ All meetings should be canceled forever,  _ Tony thinks dramatically to himself.  _ We should all be capable enough to send comprehensive emails to each other to completely eradicate the need to talk in the same room at eight o’clock in the morning. _

Tony laughs to himself. Maybe he’ll bring that up at today’s meeting.  _ A meeting to cancel all meetings.  _ Yeah, so maybe he’s a little delirious from lack of sleep.

He chalks it up to delirium even more when he pulls up to the warehouse and squints through his headlights to see a figure slumped just outside of it and immediately thinks,  _ Oh my god, if someone’s died here, it’s going to be so much paperwork. _

Tony shakes his head and brings the car to a stop before jumping out and quickly making his way over to the figure.  _ Two  _ figures. As he gets closer - a  _ dog?  _ Tony thinks incredulously - leaps to its feet and jumps around, looking agitated. And Tony can see why. The person passed out on the steps is just a  _ kid. _

“Hey, kid! Are you okay?” Tony calls, hoping the figure will jerk awake at the sound of his voice. When that doesn’t happen, Tony inches closer and puts a hand on the kid’s shoulder, rolling him over so he can see his face. He jumps back as if burned. “Kid? Wait,  _ Peter? _ Holy shit,” he swears.

For a second, Tony’s at a complete loss. For one, it’s too damn early in the morning for coherent thoughts, much less a kind-of crisis. For two, while he’d hoped to eventually catch a glimpse of Peter Parker using this facility and was inspired by him, he never  _ dreamed  _ he’d find the kid passed out on the doorstep.

Worry spikes through Tony’s chest. “FRIDAY, what’s wrong with him?” Tony asks sharply. “Peter!” he calls again, hoping to rouse him.

“Boss, he appears to have a double ear infection, strep throat, and a fever of one hundred and three degrees. He’s also severely dehydrated and malnourished,” FRIDAY informs him. “According to ARIYA’s data, he tried to get in at approximately three forty-three this morning but didn’t have an access card. He’s remained here since.”

Tony lets out a breath. “Jesus. Poor kid was probably too tired to come back from where he came from.” A quick look around shows no other cars, bikes, or scooters, so Tony knows he must of walked. “FRIDAY, what do I do?”

“You can call emergency services to come pick him up,” the AI suggests, but Tony’s already shaking his head at that. No way in hell is he letting the kid out of his sight again. “But that would risk compromising his identity as Spider-Man. I recommend getting him back to Dr. Cho.”

“Would that technically be considered kidnapping?” Tony asks, before shaking his head. “Actually, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. We’ll just call it heroes helping heroes.” Tony lets out a deep breath and pulls out his phone.

It rings four times before its answered with a click. “What have you done now?” the voice on the other end says tiredly.

“Happy!” Tony says cheerfully. “Why would you just assume I’ve done something wrong?”

“Because you’re calling me at five thirty in the morning,” Happy says wryly.

“That’s fair,” Tony admits. “Listen, I’m leaving a bunch of boxes of sandwiches and shit on the porch of the warehouse - I need you to come unload them for me. Please,” he adds when he’s met with silence.

Happy sighs. “Do I even want to know why?”

Tony looks at the kid he’s about to try to pick up and put in his car. He winces.  _ Much creepier when you phrase it like that,  _ he thinks. “Not really, no.”

“I hate you,” Happy says flatly, but Tony can already hear him shuffling around to get ready for the day, and grins thankfully.

“Love you too, darling,” he chirps. Happy promptly hangs up. 

Tony shrugs to himself before quickly jogging up back to his car and grabbing the boxes, placing them next to the kid outside the door and mentally sizing the kid up. Upon closer inspection, Tony realizes that picking him up probably won’t be a problem. The kid is thin - probably from lack of food, Tony realizes, and immediately feels sick to his stomach.

“Okay, let’s do this,” Tony says, hyping himself and bending down. He slides one arm behind the kid and around his shoulders and the other arm under his knees. He’s just about to push off the ground when Tony registers a growl and promptly backs away.

The dog, which Tony had somehow managed to forget about had planted itself on the other side of Peter’s body and is now staring at Tony, hackles raised.

“Whoa, whoa!” Tony says in alarm. “I’m not trying to hurt him, I promise. Your owner is sick - I just want to make him better,” Tony explains, as if the dog can understand him. Tony slowly sticks his hand out and the dog cautiously sniffs before flinching away.

Tony studies her for a second. He knows that if he can’t get the dog to trust him enough to let him move the boy, there’s definitely going to be a problem. Then, he gets an idea. He turns to one of the boxes he’d deposited outside the door and opens it partially, pulling out a sandwich.

“I bet you’re hungry,” Tony says knowingly. If she’s been staying with Peter all this time, then there’s no way she’s been getting fed adequately. And even if she somehow has been, there’s no telling how far and long they walked to get here. Tony holds the sandwich out. “I hope you like ham and cheese,” he tells her.

Sure enough, the dog hesitantly sticks her nose out again, this time sniffing eagerly, and Tony smiles. “Yeah, I thought you might like that. I want to give our buddy here some food, too,” Tony tells her. “You just have to let me move him.”

The dog quirks her head at him, and Tony sets the sandwich down on the ground for her to take. She eyes him suspiciously before darting forward and snatching it. While she’s occupied with the food, Tony quickly moves to get Peter off the ground, cursing under his breath because -  _ yeah  _ \- the kid is frighteningly light.

The dog gives him a reproachful look and quickly follows them, sandwich still in her mouth, and Tony sighs yet again, realizing that there’s no way he can just leave the dog here. He quickly maneuvers Peter into the car, making sure he’s secure, and then turns to the dog, who’s watching him expectantly.

“Yeah, whatever, get in, you brat,” Tony says in exasperation, patting the floor of the vehicle. She gives him another suspicious look before darting a look at the boy. “Come on,” Tony coaxes. “I’m not gonna hurt either of you.”

She seems to come to a decision then, because she quickly runs past him and hops into the car, snuffling the kid’s hair and licking his face with what Tony realizes must be worry. Tony shakes his head and quickly gets into the driver’s seat to head back to the Tower.

“FRIDAY, clear my schedule and make sure ARIYA scares the hell out of anyone who tries to take the boxes who isn’t Happy,” Tony says.

“Got it, boss. Although, I must say, Miss Potts will not be cleared to hear you’ve cleared your schedule. You have an important meeting with - “

“Yeah, spare me the lecture, FRI,” Tony cuts her off. “I’m sure I’ll hear enough of it from Pep. And get Cho up. Tell her I have a sick Spider-Man on my hands. Well, Spider- _ Kid,  _ I should say. Anyway, send her your scans so she knows what she’s working with.”

“On it,” FRIDAY says.

Tony quickly takes a glance in the rearview mirror to see the kid still just as passed out on the back seat, with the dog now laying on the floor next in front of him.

“Oh, so you’ve decided I’m not going to kill you two?” Tony asks her sarcastically, and the dog just huffs, as if understanding him. Tony rolls his eyes and then glances at the kid one last time. “FRIDAY, how’s the kid? He gonna make it to the Tower?” Tony asks worriedly.

“His fever hasn’t risen, but it hasn’t fallen yet either,” FRIDAY informs him.

“You’d better not die on me, kid,” Tony mutters. After that, he falls silent.

Now that he has a moment to think, he’s starting to realize just how out of his depth he is. Where does he even go from here? He brings the kid back, they treat him, and then what? There’s no way in hell Tony will let him waltz back to the streets again. But to put the kid back into the system, after everything he’s been through? That doesn’t seem right either.

Tony shakes his head.  _ I’ll figure out later,  _ he tells himself, already knowing that that’s a terrible idea.  _ Or, at least, Pepper will have some idea of what to do. _

Speaking of-- 

Tony’s phone rings insistently and he picks it up. “Hi, honey,” he answers charmingly.

“Don’t ‘hi honey’ me,” Pepper says irritably. “It’s barely even six in the morning, so  _ why  _ has FRIDAY notified me that you’re schedule’s been cleared for today?”

“Snitch,” Tony mutters.

“ _ Tony, _ ” Pepper snaps.

“Okay, listen. Don’t be mad--”

“I’m already mad. You’re  _ supposed  _ to be checking up on the project that  _ you  _ begged  _ me  _ to start--”

“Okay, that is definitely  _ not  _ how that went,” Tony protests.

“--and now, you’re already ditching the rest of your responsibilities, and it’s only the  _ second day _ \--”

“Are you done?” Tony cuts in. “Because as hot as you are when you’re angry--”

“I’m going to  _ kill  _ you--” Pepper snarls.

“--I actually have a good reason for canceling the meeting,” Tony continues. He can practically hear Pepper crossing her arms on the other end.

“Fine. Let’s hear it,” she says impatiently.

“So, it’s a funny story, really, but I got to the warehouse this morning to restock and everything, and you wouldn’t believe--there was a teenage kid passed out on the doorstep. Except he wouldn’t wake up, so I had FRIDAY scan him, and he’s apparently very sick, so I figured--”

“Oh my  _ God!  _ Tony! You can’t just bring some random kid back to the Tower like a stray dog!” Pepper exclaims.

Tony winces and then laughs nervously. “Oh, well, uh… I actually have one of those, too. It was unavoidable. Package deal.”

“You’re joking,” Pepper says, sounding like she doesn’t know whether to be furious or tired. Probably a bit of both.

“I can honestly tell you that I am not, in fact, joking,” Tony responds. “If it makes you feel any better, she - the dog, that is - growled at me.”

“Good for her,” Pepper deadpans.

“And besides, this isn’t just ‘some random kid,’” Tony says, going for the final punch. “It, uh, may or may not be Peter Parker.”

There’s a moment of silence in which Tony preemptively cringes. And then, “ _ Tony,  _ what were you thinking?!”

“It’s not like I knew he’d be there!” Tony says defensively. “And I couldn’t just leave him passed out on the doorstep. And calling the authorities probably wouldn’t have ended well. Come on, you know I’m right.”

Pepper sighs. “I’m still mad,” Pepper tells him, and Tony grins triumphantly.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises.

“You’d better,” Pepper warns.

“When have I ever let you down?” Tony asks innocently. “Don’t answer that,” he adds quickly. “Anyway, I’m pulling in right now, so I’ll see you in a minute. I’ll meet you down in MedBay.”

“I’ll be there,” she promises before hanging up, and somewhat sappily, Tony thinks fondly,  _ You always are. _

Tony makes quick work of pulling into the garage and parking. He quickly hops out and pulls open the back door, and the dog gives him a wary look.

“Oh, come on,” Tony says exasperatedly. “Let’s not do this again. I’m going to  _ help  _ him. You can come with us.”

She regards him so a moment before hopping out, and Tony sighs in relief and ducks down to lift the kid, groaning a little bit at the strain. As unhealthily light as the kid is, Tony’s definitely thankful that he’s kept in shape these past few months.

He quickly heads to the elevator, looking worriedly at the kid when Peter’s head lolls to the side. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ve gotcha,” he murmurs. Without any prompting, FRIDAY quickly closes the doors once the three of them are inside and takes them down to the MedBay. The dog paces nervously at Tony’s heels the whole way down.

Now that he has a moment to just stand and look at the kid in his arms, Tony notices how truly awful the kid looks. Not in a mean way, but it’s obvious the kid hasn’t had a proper shower in a long while, and his clothes are grimy and worn. Once again, Tony’s dying to know where the kid’s been staying.

Another, more selfish part, would almost rather stay ignorant.

The doors open, and Tony lets out a sigh of relief when it reveals Helen Cho and Pepper waiting for him, as promised.

_ Pepper makes everything better,  _ he thinks.

Pepper gasps when she sees the kid passed out in Tony’s arms and Cho quickly strolls forward to get a look at him.

“Jesus, Tony,” Pepper says, shaking her head. “Poor kid.”

“‘Poor kid’ is right,” Helen agrees. “Tony, put him here,” she commands, gesturing to the nearest examination table, and Tony quickly follows her instructions, careful not to jostle the kid too much.

“Oh, Helen, there’s one thing you should probably know about him before you get to work,” Tony says, and she looks at him expectantly. “That’s Spider-Man.”

“That’s  _ who?!”  _ Pepper nearly screeches.

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” Tony admits, and Pepper glares at him with a _W_ _ e’ll talk more about this later  _ look. 

Helen, however, just nods, completely unfazed after working with Tony for so long. She quickly but methodically begins to go about checking his vitals, and Pepper turns to Tony. 

“You weren’t kidding about the dog,” she comments.

“Of course I wasn’t kidding about the dog,” he says. “Speaking of which, we should probably put her somewhere. The MedBay is not the best place for her, I don’t think. And Helen needs room to work.”

Pepper nods in agreement. “Go on, then.”

Tony looks at the dog nervously before crouching down and clucking to get her attention. “Here, girl!” he calls. “Come on, let’s go get you something better than an old sandwich to eat, yeah? And maybe some water. And a nicer personality,” Tony jokes.

The dog just gives him an unimpressed look and plops onto the floor, as if to say,  _ I’m not going anywhere.  _ Tony looks up at Pepper and shrugs.

“She’s fine,” Cho says shortly, and Tony nods, inwardly thankful that he doesn’t have to try to wrestle with a possessive dog. “Tony, we’re definitely looking at a severe case of strep here,” she says, shining a light to the back of the kid’s throat, and Tony winces sympathetically. “I want to start him on antibiotics as soon as possible, but I’d look your input for getting the right dosage. I assume he has a quicker metabolism?”

Tony nods. “I’d have to do some tests to know for sure, but from what I’ve seen, he’s quite similar to Cap.”

“Well, get started on those then while I get him situated. I’ll draw some blood,” she says.

“Okay,” he agrees. He takes a quick glance at his watch and groans.

It’s not even seven in the morning yet, and he already feels like he’s been up for hours and hours.

He can already tell it’s going to be a long day.

* * *

The first thing Peter feels upon waking up is the soft, warm bed underneath him. The next thing he feels, only a split second later, is alarm. Because Peter hasn’t had access to a soft bed in what feels like  _ ages.  _

He forces his eyes to open, making a noise of frustration when it actually take effort to open them. He feels something move at the end of the bed, then, and that spikes enough adrenaline in him to sit up quickly, heart pounding violently.

Peter looks around, unable to keep his gaze in one spot for too long as he tries to pinpoint where he is and what’s going on. He looks down at his hands, to the tube taped to his skin and follows it with his eyes to the IV stand next to him.

He nearly chokes at the sight of it, because he  _ can’t  _ be a hospital, he just can’t. He wracks his brain, trying furiously to remember the events of the past few days but only coming up with a bunch of hazy memories of pain and discomfort.

More movement by his feet demands his attention, and Peter’s gaze snaps down in fear before -

“Tilly?!” he exclaims incredulously. Tilly hops up, tail wagging excitedly as if happy to see her owner back in the land of the living. Peter reaches out to pet her with the hand that isn’t attached to the IV, and he thinks he could cry. If nothing else, at least he has his dog. “Hey, pretty girl. Where are we, Tilly?”

“Oh, so it has a name,” a name voice says, and Peter jumps, heart stopping in his chest. He looks up to find none other than Tony Stark standing in the doorway. “You’re at Stark Tower, by the way.”

Peter blinks incomprehensibly for a moment. He’s almost positive he’s hallucinating. He must still be sick. He’s still in the storage unit, the fever’s just gotten to his head, he’s sure of it.

“You’re not hallucinating, if that’s what you’re thinking. Anyway, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” the man continues. Then he stops and levels Peter with a calculating look. “Or should I say Spider-Man?”

And for the second time in as many minutes, Peter’s heart stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya girl really forced herself to write this through a depressive episode. She did that for you. Anyway, sorry for another boring chapter. I meant for this chapter to be more actual Peter & Tony interaction, but it just wasn't wanting to happen yet. Next chapter, though, I promise. And sorry for the long wait. Life's been a fucking nightmare. But hopefully things will calm down soon and I'll be able to update quicker. Also, I didn't edit again because I'm exhausted.
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments and support. I read every single one, and they encourage me so, so much. I still can't believe the response I've gotten to this story. I'm continuously blown away. <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, all I can say is: Sorry for the long wait. Oh, and Happy New Year!

Tony gets six hours in the lab with Helen before they finally figure out the right dosage of medication for the kid, and barely six seconds afterwards, Pepper comes marching through the doors. Helen quickly takes her leave with the medicine, and Tony sighs, facing a cross-looking Pepper.

_ Guess there’s no holding off the inevitable,  _ Tony thinks to himself, though he certainly did try. Pepper had agreed to leave him alone long enough to help Helen, but he’s assuming FRIDAY’s kept her up-to-date on their progress, and there’s no escaping it now.

She stops in front of him, arms crossed. “Tony.  _ Please  _ tell me you have some sort of plan.”

“Aw, Pep, you know winging it is more my style. Now that you mention it, I think we could definitely make getting some Taco Bell a priority, and maybe -” Tony cuts off at the murderous look on her face.

“I’m  _ talking  _ about the enhanced homeless kid you have in our MedBay. A kid who just happens to be Spider-Man. A total coincidence, I’m sure,” she says sarcastically.

“Okay, to be fair -” Tony tries, but Pepper just sighs and cuts him off again.

“Tony, please. This is an actual human being. You need to think about what you’re going to do from here.” She pauses for a second, weighing her next words. “I think we need to call Child Services.”

Tony’s face immediately hardens. “No.”

“Tony, listen, I know you have your reservations with authority like that, but -”

“I said  _ no,  _ Pepper,” he says crossly. “There are so many reasons why that could go wrong. We can’t turn him over for the same reason we can’t bring him to a normal hospital. He’s not normal. We call them now, and they’ll bring him to a real doctor. And then what? They figure out he’s Spider-Man, or at least enhanced? That’s a shitshow waiting to happen. And call me paranoid, but I’m not exactly keen on sending him back to a system he ran away from without knowing exactly why he ran away from it in the first place.”

Pepper tilts her head at him in consideration, and Tony, even in his panic that the kid is going to be sent away before he can even begin to truly help him, appreciates Pepper’s never-ending ability to listen and consider his arguments carefully when it comes to the serious topics. He holds his breath while she thinks.

Finally, she seems to come to a decision.

“Three days.”

He raises an eyebrow, not entirely sure what that means. “Oh?”

“I’ll give it three days. That gives him time to recover some and a little bit of time for us to figure out some next steps. Maybe he’ll open up to us a little bit. And then, I guess we’ll reevaluate and see what we should do,” she tells him.

Tony lets out a sigh of relief and feels a sudden rush of affection for his extremely-tolerant partner and CEO. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her in for a quick kiss before releasing her.

“You’re a saint; you know that, right?” he tells her, and she gives him a wry smile.

“I sure do,” she tells him, thoroughly amused. “Now, I think you have a spider-kid to go check in on.”

“Yeah, wish me luck,” Tony says before turning and heading in the direction of the MedBay.

When he gets there, Helen is just gathering up her stuff and Peter is still laying on the bed, eerily still. He looks marginally better now, though that’s not saying much, considering the state he was found in. A little bit of color has finally returned to his cheeks, and Tony can see that someone has at least wiped a bit of the grime from his face and fitted him with a clean shirt.

The dog, Tony notices, has leapt onto the bed and is curled up at the kid’s feet and watching them intently, as if keeping watch.

“How’d it go?” Tony asks Helen.

“Smoothly,” she responds. “I administered the dosage of medication we set for him, and already his fever seems to be going down. I’d give it another hour or so before he starts to wake up, though I suspect he’ll be quite sick for a couple more days.”

“Thank you, Helen,” Tony says earnestly. “Seriously. I know this was kind of a curveball.”

She shakes her head and laughs a little. “Honestly, Tony? After working with the Avengers for as long as I have, I don’t really get that surprised anymore,” she tells him. After a moment, her smiles finds and she turns serious again.

“What is it?” Tony asks, not liking the look on her face.

“Whatever happened to him - it can’t be good,” she says, looking grim. Seeing Tony’s “Well, duh” expression, she quickly continues. “Look at him,” she orders, and Tony does, not sure what he’s supposed to be seeing that he hasn’t already noticed.

“He looks sick,” Tony comments, stating the obvious.

“He looks  _ tense _ ,” Helen corrects, and now that she says it, it’s glaringly obvious to Tony. The poor kid is completely knocked off his feet, and yet his brow his still furrowed, body tight with tension. Like he’s learned the consequences of relaxing, even in sleep. Dread pools in his gut. “It’s like even in sleep, his body’s learned to stay in fight or flight mode. The trauma he must have endured to get him to that point, Tony… he’s going to need help. And a lot of it.”

Tony takes in a deep breath, trying to bury the rising fury at the implications of what the kid’s been through.

“Got it,” Tony says shortly, mind already whirring with things he needs to do.

_ This kid is gonna need a truckload of therapy,  _ he tells himself, already making a mental note to contact his own therapist to see if they can find one for the kid. As soon as he thinks the thought, Tony freezes.

Therapy is a long-term commitment. Before Tony can think too hard about the implications of  _ that _ and what it’d mean for Tony and Peter, Tony simply shakes his head and looks up at Helen.

“Anyway, I’m going to stay here with him for a bit and maybe get some paperwork done. I’ll let you know if he has any negative reactions or wakes up,” Tony tells her, and she nods in acknowledgement before taking her leave.

Tony settles himself in a chair near the kid’s bed and looks at Peter, feeling a twinge in his chest. He looks so  _ young.  _ It’s easy to overlook how small Peter is when he’s Spider-Man - the big personality and his raw strength easily makes up for it. But here, on the hospital bed, the kid just looks so  _ tiny. _

“You’ve really been through it, haven’t you, kid?” Tony murmurs to deaf ears. Well, except for the dog, who’s watching him with what Tony can only describe as suspicion.

“Oh, what’s  _ that  _ look for? I’m  _ helping  _ your precious owner, you mangy mutt,” Tony scowls. “You seem to like Helen and Pepper just fine. What’s your deal with me?”

The lab just lets out a huff and lays her head across her owners feet, as if pointedly ignoring him. Tony tries not to feel offended that he’s being cold-shouldered by a dog he just met.

Tony sighs as he leans back, glad to finally have a moment to just  _ sit  _ after the craziness of the day. He pulls out his StarkPad to give his hands something to do and pulls up the video footage of The Lunchbox warehouse, belatedly remembering that he needs to check up on the proceedings.

He quickly scans the footage of the front door, satisfied that all the supplies must have been put away by Happy. Tony makes a mental note to send Happy a thanks, knowing the man wasn’t very happy at being called at the crack of dawn.

Tony switches to the cameras inside and pulls up another window of ARIYA’s logs, satisfied to see they’ve given away almost 200 meals today. Inside, he can see the hastily-hired employees checking people in and handing out supplies, as well as chatting with people, presumably about getting more permanent help.

For a minute, Tony just feels a rush of pride. Yeah, he’s a superhero and he’s saved a lot of lives, but it’s always felt like something he had no choice in. Something he  _ had  _ to do, and it’s always been so big-scale. And to choose to help on a smaller scale, well… somehow it just feels more personal, more real.

After another moment of Tony admiring his handiwork and the employees working as efficiently as they are, he switches to footage from the security cameras spanning around the outside of the warehouse. He frowns when he sees a single figure walking around the back, staring up at the window.

The person is wearing a baggy hoodie, hood pulled up so that his face his concealed. Tony zooms in on the footage, trying to get a better look, but it makes no difference. Tony gets up, figuring the kid will be fine for a couple minutes, and makes his way down the hall to a conference room.

“FRIDAY, pull up ARIYA’s footage from the back cam,” Tony orders, and a hologram of the feed sprouts up from the long conference table.

The person is still staring at the window, and maybe he’s just being paranoid, but there’s something about their posture that rubs him the wrong way, a tension there that doesn’t really make sense. As Tony watches, the person starts walking along building and then turns the corner.

“FRIDAY, switch to the camera on the left side,” Tony orders quickly. The footage switches, and Tony freezes.

The frame is empty.

“FRIDAY, where did that person go?” Tony demands.

“None of ARIYA’s sensors or cameras are picking up anything up, boss,” FRIDAY responds. FRIDAY sounds as close to confused as Tony’s ever heard, and unease pools in his gut.

“What do you mean? He’s just… gone?” Tony asks. There’s a moment of silence as Tony just stares at the empty space outside the warehouse before the AI responds.

“It appears so. ARIYA’s still running scans, but other than the people inside, the number of people hasn’t changed.”

“Great,” Tony says sarcastically. “Not creepy at all.”

He runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do next. How did whoever that was just… disappear like that? Tony shakes his head, wondering if he’s just overthinking it. Every camera and sensor has a blind spot. Maybe the person just happened to avoid it.

In fact, Tony is just starting to convince himself that he’s probably getting all worked up over nothing when FRIDAY cuts in with, “Boss, it seems Mr. Parker is waking up.”

“Shit,” Tony curses, suddenly realizing that he’s been away for longer than he intended. He’s sure the kid is probably confused, if not completely terrified. He quickly shuts the hologram down, the stranger tossed out of mind as he makes his way back to the kid’s room. He’s glad he let the dog stay with Peter now so the kid could at least have one familiar face to wake up to.

When Tony gets to Peter’s room, he can hear the kid talking - or more like croaking - to the dog. “Tilly?! Hey, pretty girl,” he croons. “Where are we, Tilly?”

“Oh, so it has a name,” Tony says by way of greeting. Peter jolts, clearly startled and nervous, and looks up at him with wide eyes. “You’re at Stark Tower, by the way.”

Tony gives Peter a second to process the new information, a little amused at the way the kid just blinks at him for a moment.

“You’re not hallucinating,” Tony continues. He tilts his head and considers his next words before deciding  _ what the hell, might as well,  _ and says, “Anyway, good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Or should I say Spider-Man?”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Tony reconsiders. The poor kid’s face goes white as a sheet, and Tony thinks,  _ Good job Stark. We only just got some color back into him.  _

Peter is already halfway up, looking like he’s about to bolt, so Tony hastily puts his hands up and says, “Sorry, sorry. I maybe could have handled that better.”

The kid is shaking slightly, but his voice comes out steady, albeit quiet, when he says, “How do you know?”

“That I could have handled that better?” Tony snarks. “Because you’re shaking like a leaf.” At Peter’s unamused look, he continues with, “Oh, you mean how do I know that you’re Spider-Man?” Tony shoves his hands into his pockets and slowly walks fully into the room, broadcasting each movement before he makes it so as not to spook the kid any further.

“Well, it wasn’t too hard to figure out,” Tony admits. “Especially since I was already looking for Peter Parker.”

“You were?” Peter asks, the question seemingly punched out of him before he could stop himself. He looks almost embarrassed by the question, but the curiosity in his eyes doesn’t go away.

“After what you showed me at the Expo?” Tony says incredulously. “Of course I was. I mean, I’ll admit, I was also curious to know why you’d run away from me, but mostly, I was just genuinely interested in your project. Anyway, in your haste to leave, you left a vial of web fluid behind. Which I’d mostly forgotten about, until that day you kept my ass from going  _ splat. _ ”

“You recognized my voice that easily?” Peter asks, looking panicked.

“No no - well, actually, there was something  _ familiar  _ about you, but I couldn’t figure out what. No, when I got back to the lab here, I saw your vial sitting on my desk and remembered what you’d said about being able to replicate Spider-Man’s formula, not realizing at the time that you  _ were  _ Spider-Man. So I had FRIDAY analyze the components of fluid in the vial and what was left on my suit, just to see how similar they were.”

Tony watches as realization dawns on Peter’s face. “And then you realized the same exact components were used for both of them and concluded there was no way it was a coincidence,” Peter finishes for him.

“Bingo,” Tony says with a nod.

For a moment, neither of them speak, and Tony watches as the kid absentmindedly pets the dog, who’s eagerly leaning into the touch, while he mulls over the information. Tony waits with baited breath, practically expecting the kid to bolt.

Eventually, Peter just asks, “So why am I here?”

Tony raises an eyebrow at that. “Well, I thought that’d be kinda obvious, since you literally passed out outside of my newly-opened resource center. I wasn’t just gonna leave you there.”

“No, I mean, why  _ here  _ and not a hospital?” Peter presses.

“Do you  _ want  _ to be in a hospital?” Tony asks incredulously.

“Well,  _ no, _ ” Peter says, sounding frustrated. “I just -” He pauses to run an agitated hand through his curls, fumbling over his next words. “I just don’t know what you want from me,” he finally says in a rush, and Tony feels himself soften.

Looking at the flustered kid, Tony can’t help the rush compassion he has for him. There’s fury there, too. Fury at whoever fucked up the kid so badly that he thinks Tony wants something in exchange for treating Peter like a human being.

“Peter,” Tony says softly. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Peter looks confused for a second, before he looks away and allows his face to settle into a blank mask. Tony tries to keep the startled look off his face at the seamless change in demeanor.

“What about Social Services?” Peter asks flatly.

“What about them?” Tony shoots back.

“Aren’t you going to call them?”

“Well, I kind of assumed you’d just immediately run away again if I did. Am I wrong?” Tony asks pointedly, not fully answering the kid’s question.

Peter’s lips twitch in response. “No,” he agrees.

“Thought so,” Tony says. “Anyway, I’m sure Dr. Cho will be here any minute to check in on you, since I assume FRIDAY’s notified her you’re awake. You have strep throat and a double ear infection by the way. I’m honestly surprised you were able to hold a conversation. Your voice does sound pretty rough, though, so we should probably take it easy for a bit, yeah?”

Peter nods, still petting the canine next to him, and Tony can’t help but notice that Peter’s body is fraught with tension. He sighs inwardly, hoping that one day the kid will feel comfortable around him enough to relax.

“Do you have any belongings you need me to get? I’m sure we have plenty of clothes here you can wear, but we can get all your other stuff moved here,” Tony offers.

Peter looks hesitant for a second. “I’d rather not bother,” he says slowly. “Don’t really wanna have to deal with moving it all back.”

This time, Tony’s the one who’s confused. “‘Back’?” he echoes, not sure what he means.

“You know…” Peter gestures aimlessly with his arm, looking rather helpless. “Like. When I’m better and I have to leave again.” He’s looking down at the sheets now, avoiding Tony’s gaze.

His words make Tony’s chest ache with something dangerously close to pity, and he tries to keep the emotion off his face. He knows Peter wouldn’t appreciate it. Still, that doesn’t stop him from making a split-second executive decision: Peter will  _ not  _ be returning to whatever nook he’s considered home for the last few weeks.

“Jesus Christ, kid, what’d you think I was going to do? Toss you back to the streets like some rehabilitated animal?” Tony asks, instantly regretting the question when he’s met with Peter’s  _ Yeah, kind of  _ expression. “Listen, obviously there’s some stuff we’re probably gonna have to work out, but… there’s more than enough space for you here, for as long as you need it.”

Tony watches as a myriad of emotions flash across Peter’s face, all ranging from scared to unsure to completely overwhelmed to utter relief.

“I… Mr. Stark, I can’t… I can’t accept that,” Peter finally says, tearing the words through his teeth.

“Why not?” Tony challenges, unwavering.

“It’s too much,” Peter says plainly, and Tony can’t help but laugh.

“Not to sound entirely arrogant, but I’m a multi-billionaire, kid. I have more than enough money and space to spare. And also, my debatable conscious would hound me if I threw you back. So, really, you’re doing me a favor.”

“Will I be… locked in or anything like that? I’ll be allowed to… to go outside and go places, right?” Peter asks.

“Jesus, I’m not going to keep you prisoner, kid,” Tony responds, feeling vaguely sick at even the thought of locking the kid up. “We’re going to have to talk about how to avoid press, though, but we can always touch on that later. Pepper’s better at that stuff anyway.”

Peter bites his lip nervously as he mulls it over, and for a second, Tony worries that Peter’s going to decline his offer and run off again. He’s not sure what he’ll do if that happens.

Then, Peter looks at Tilly and says, “What do you think, girl? Are we staying?” and Tony’s heart soars with relief.

The dogs looks up at her owner and nudges him softly, licking the palm of his hand, and Peter let’s his face break into a small smile. He looks up at Tony and nods.

“I guess that means we’re staying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Writing an unrealistic progression of events? It's more likely than you think. This chapter was a total bitch to write lmao. Anyway, this chapter and the next chapter are kinda filler-y, so I'm sorry in advance. The good news is that I've FINALLY figured out an actual direction for this fic that I'm kind of excited about.
> 
> Also, I just want you guys to know that I took a step back from the irondad fandom for a bit, and I really just. Was dragging my feet about updating this fic. But then I read a bunch of your comments (especially on chapter 5, the North Star chapter), and it really motivated me to make this happen. So thank you so much. Your comments really do help drive me, and I appreciate the continuous support and patience. I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season!
> 
> Oh, and I changed my tumblr url for the billionth time. Come say hello @tonystarkstan!!


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